Happy Birthday Mr President
by MagicInHerMadness
Summary: 1960s AU. Olivia is the biggest star in the world. Fitz is a young, handsome president who's nothing short of starstruck when she sings at his birthday party. What follows is an affair to remember.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is already posted in my one shots collection but I've decided to make it a full story. It's loosely based on the alleged affair between JFK and Marilyn Monroe. There will be some history included but I plan to take a lot of creative license.  
**

1962

Tuesday · Hollywood, California

Paramount Studios

Olivia sat at her dressing room's vanity, painting on her signature winged eyeliner. She didn't look away from her reflection when someone knocked on the door. "Come in."

Two men in dark suits entered a moment later and looked around the room. One, a hulking man with a blonde crewcut, asked, "Are you alone, Ms. Pope?"

"Except you two, yes," she replied. Finished with her makeup, she turned away from the mirror to look them over. She smirked. "You two look like you could be Secret Service."

"We are," the blonde man replied, surprising Olivia.

Olivia's eyebrows rose. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm afraid I'm the cause," another man said as he entered. He wore a gray suit and his dark hair was combed neatly. "Stephen Grant."

"You're a relation of the president, I presume," Olivia replied, wondering what was going on.

"I'm his older brother, believe it or not," Stephen replied. "And if you can believe that, you might be able to believe how big of a fan he is of you."

Olivia smiled. "So he told me. I met him once last summer."

She quickly recalled the meeting between herself and the handsome young president. He had mooned over her in a way she wasn't used to from someone so powerful, blushing when she told him he was the only politician she had ever voted for.

"He's seen all your movies. He even has some of your albums." Olivia was flattered to say the least, color rising in her cheeks. Stephen went on, "I'm here because his birthday party is this Saturday, and I'd like for you to perform at his party. That is, if you're not already booked somewhere else."

"I'd cancel on the Pope to perform for the President," Olivia replied. "What should I sing?"

"'Happy Birthday,'" Stephen answered. "Unless you'd like to sing something else."

"What else is there to sing on such an occasion?"

Stephen shrugged. "I get the impression my brother would listen to you sing the Coppertone jingle if you showed up."

"I think "Happy Birthday" will do just fine." There was a knock at the door followed by the muffled voice of one of the set's interns. "Oh, that's my cue. You can leave the information with my assistant, Quinn."

Olivia stood and Stephen stopped his jaw from going slack at the sight of her in a red satin gown with a low-cut neckline that exposed more cleavage than Stephen had ever seen outside of a magazine. "Break a leg."

XXXXX

Saturday · New York, New York

Madison Square Garden

Stephen watched his younger brother stand before the mirror fussing with his bowtie. Fitz frowned at his older brother's reflection. "I hate this tie."

"Then wear a regular one," Stephen replied, sitting in the shining leather high-backed chair in the corner.

"I have to wear this one. It was a gift from The Queen."

Mellie entered the room, beaming in her blue silk gown that matched Fitz's tie. "Let me do it, dear."

Fitz turned to his wife, glowering. "I really don't want to do this."

"It's your birthday, Fitz. It's practically a national holiday."

Fitz rolled his eyes. "No it isn't. It's just an excuse for you to pack the house with dignitaries."

"Well I've got to have some fun. I'm ornamental, not functional. Remember?" She gave an icy grin, bringing up one of Fitz's remarks from a fight earlier that week.

"Well you've got the mental part right," Fitz muttered as Mellie finished tying his tie.

"Oh don't be petty, Fitzgerald. There's bound to be plenty of bimbos for you to ogle tonight, and that's the best birthday present I could give you, isn't it?"

Stephen stifled a snicker as he stood. "Let's save the pillow talk for later, shall we? There's plenty of liquor downstairs that needs our attention."

Mellie left first, announcing she had to finish putting her face on. Fitz smirked. "If she puts any more face on, she'll give Ronald McDonald a run for his money."

"How about you cheer up, little Gerry? Tonight could turn out better than you think," Stephen replied as he headed for the door. He knew of a surprise that would certainly turn his brother's evening around. They descended the stairs to the arena where guests were beginning to arrive. Stephen looked around the room and frowned at the absence of one particular guest that he'd been expecting before everyone else. He went to the agents watching the door. "Is she here yet?"

"Ms. Pope has yet to arrive. Her assistant called to say she's running late," one agent replied.

Stephen smirked. "She's running late. Unbelievable. She's probably trying to stuff that set of bowling balls on her chest into whatever piece of cellophane she picked to wear tonight."

The agents snickered as Stephen walked away. He smirked at Fitz looking bored as he entertained the Canadian prime minister and his ceramic-looking wife.

The party commenced without incident. Mellie grinned icily as she mingled with guests, leaving Fitz sitting at the head of the banquet table. He plastered on a smile, graciously thanking the guests who approached him. Presents sat in a towering pile on the gift table and Stephen wondered what sort of presents one bought for the leader of the free world. He had gotten his brother a crystal tumbler of scotch that he had a good feeling wouldn't last very long in his little brother's possession.

He was refilling his glass of champagne when an agent approached him. "She's here, Mr. Grant."

"Get her set up on the stage and have someone light the candles on the cake." The agent nodded and disappeared. Stephen walked to the table and sat beside his brother. "Do you know how lucky you are to have me as a brother?"

"You're the only person who bought me liquor, so I'm going to say I'm very lucky," Fitz replied with a mirthless smirk. He didn't understand how everyone could be so jubilant given the country's turmoil. It was his birthday true enough, but shouldn't frivolity take a backseat when there was a crisis afoot? He could think of a distinct faction of the country who didn't have the freedom to celebrate with him, a faction who had risked literal death to give him the presidency, and yet no one in attendance of his ridiculously lavish birthday party seemed the least bit concerned with their welfare.

"Come on Ger, cheer up. I promise you can go back to saving the world tomorrow. Tonight, have some fun."

Fitz finally smiled. His big brother was his best friend, and though Fitz would never admit it to his face, Stephen was very much a father figure to him. He did need to loosen up. The White House doctor had warned him about keeping himself so wound up. His blood pressure was through the roof. He sipped his champagne and sat back in his chair. "Fine. Tonight, I'll be the empty-headed, fun-loving politician every trashy magazine says I am."

"Good," Stephen replied, getting up from his chair. He walked onto the ballroom's stage and the orchestra quieted. Every guest turned to him. "If everyone could be seated, I have something very special planned for tonight."

He waited for the guests to shuffle into their seats then continued, "A little secret about my brother: He wanted to be a movie star when we were growing up. He used to insist my mother videotape him doing Humphrey Bogart's best lines. I still have those tapes if anyone would like to buy them."

The crowd laughed and Fitz smirked at his brother. Stephen laughed. "But seriously, folks, my baby brother is probably my best friend in the world. I wish I could say it goes both ways but I think single malt scotch has that spot with no contest. Nevertheless, I'm here to present my brother with the best birthday present anyone could give him. I'm looking at you, Senator Jordan. I saw the speedboat racing lessons gift certificate you bought him and I think I've got you beat. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I present the lovely Olivia Pope."

The silence was almost deafening as the arena became pitch black in an instant. A spotlight came on, lighting the single spot on the stage where Olivia stood. She looked around the shadowed crowd as she slipped out of her white fur wrap. Fitz thought his eyes might pop out of his head at the sight of her skin tight flesh-colored gown, glittering with crystals. He squinted, trying to discern if there was something underneath the gown or if he was staring at her skin through the thin fabric. Fitz stared at her, only mildly aware that he was gaping like an idiot, as her eyes landed on him. She gave a glimmer of her million dollar smile, her bedroom eyes alight as she took hold of the microphone.

" _Happy birthday to you_ ," she sang and Fitz had to remind himself to breathe at the sound of her soft, smoky voice. He could almost image that they were alone, their eyes connecting in the dark room, her voice breathy. He was thankful that she sang slowly, prolonging the song, so that he could unabashedly stare at her. He couldn't think of anything or anyone else she'd rather be looking at. When she finished it took him a moment to join everyone else in the nearly deafening applause. She only smiled, seeming almost unfazed, as she briefly bowed her head then left the stage. The lights came back up and Fitz looked at Stephen. "How'd you swing Olivia Pope?"

Stephen shrugged. "I'm the President's brother. That carries a surprising cache of power."

Fitz laughed. "You're an idiot."

"You're welcome, Gerry." Stephen smiled as he stood. "Wanna go meet her?"

"Yeah." Fitz couldn't stop smiling as he stood with his brother and followed Stephen to the backstage area. Fitz looked around and frowned when he didn't see her. "Where do you think she went?"

"Probably back to her dressing room. It's not like she was dressed to entertain," Stephen replied.

Fitz begged to differ but didn't say anything. They walked down the hallway dividing the dressing rooms and Stephen stopped before the door behind which he could hear a woman laughing. He knocked on the door and a brunette woman popped her head out. "Yes?"

"The President would like to thank Ms. Pope for her performance," Stephen replied.

The woman's head disappeared then reappeared quickly. "She's not ready yet."

"When will she be ready?"

Again, her head disappeared in the dressing room then reappeared. "Soon."

She disappeared a third time and the door shut with a finality that perturbed Fitz. He wasn't used to being kept waiting by anyone. He and Stephen exchanged a look then went back to the party. Fitz put on his best smile as he cut his enormous birthday cake. He was pleased at least that the cake was his favorite, chocolate with thick buttercream French vanilla frosting. He took a large piece for himself and another for Olivia, should she ever grace them with her presence.

In her dressing room, Olivia sat at the dressing table reapplying her eyeliner. She looked up at Quinn in the mirror. "Who was it?"

"The president and his brother. I think everyone's waiting for you," Quinn replied.

"Good." Olivia put on more lipstick then grinned at her reflection. She took her time fluffing her raven curls, darkening her beauty mark, humming to herself. Quinn sat on a couch, brushing Olivia's wrap.

xxxxx

Fitz was halfway through his piece of cake when a hush fell over the crowd near the door. He watched as the small groups parted like the Red Sea. Olivia stood before them, still clad in her sheer gown, withher wrap around her. He couldn't stop himself from smiling like he was sixteen. "There you are!"

She walked by everyone, smiling graciously as she accepted their compliments. Her smile brightened as she got closer to him, but she didn't quicken her pace. Her eyes were almost playful as she stopped before him. "Here I am."

"I saved you some cake." He couldn't think of anything else to say to her, and he wasn't normally a man who could be struck mute by a woman.

"That's very kind of you, Mr. President. Shall we?" Fitz stepped aside and allowed her to walk ahead of him toward the banquet table. Olivia sat at the head seat of the table and picked up her fork.

Fitz's eyebrows raised as he sat to her right. "You know you're in my seat, right?"

Olivia paused, her fork almost at her mouth, and looked at him in surprise. "Oh am I? I'm sorry. Do you want to switch?"

Fitz chuckled. "No, no. Don't put yourself out for me."

Olivia laughed and ate her cake. "Good cake."

"It's my favorite," Fitz replied with a smile. "So, Ms. Pope, what do you do when you're not being America's dream girl?"

She laughed lightly. "I don't think I'm America's dream girl. And if I am, America should probably wake up. But to answer your question, I've been doing a lot of painting lately. Silly watercolors, mind you, but it's fun to do when I'm stuck in the hotel waiting on show time."

"I'm sure they're lovely." Fitz couldn't imagine her doing anything that wasn't beautiful.

"I'll have to show you some time." She laughed then, her head falling back.

"What's funny?"

She shook her head. "I was laughing at myself for thinking you had the time to look at my silly paintings."

Fitz looked at her earnestly. "I'd like to see them. Really."

Olivia's smile was soft and warm. "That would be nice. But enough about me. You're the birthday boy. Tell me what you do when you're not running the world."

Fitz shrugged. "Not a lot. I sail sometimes, but I haven't seen my boat in months."

"Where is it?"

"My brother had it in Nantucket a few weeks ago so it's probably still docked there."

Olivia smiled. "Do you just leave your boat lying around anywhere?"

"My brother does. Stevie would leave his head behind if it wasn't attached to his neck."

They spent the next half hour ensconced in their own little world, talking about anything that came to mind. Olivia was sure it was just the stars in her eyes, but she was practically smitten. She knew Fitz was "politician" charming from the campaign trail, but she was surprised that he was actually an earnestly charming man. Mellie was all too pleased to break up their chat. She approached with her trademark smile, running her fingers through her thick dark hair. "It's time for pictures."

"Oh, do I have time to go touch up my lipstick?" Olivia asked as she stood.

"Sure," Fitz replied before Mellie could answer.

Olivia headed for the ladies' room and Mellie turned her eyes on her husband. "Well you're having fun."

Fitz smirked. "Don't start, Mel. I see Andrew found his way here."

Andrew Nichols had taken Fitz's vacated senatorial seat in California, and apparently had also taken his place in Mellie's bed. Mellie's smile twitched but she didn't lose her composure. "At least I have the decency to conduct my affair in private. You've told everyone who'll listen that you're Olivia Pope's number one fan."

"I've seen her movies. I haven't seen her naked."

"Yet." Mellie sneered.

"Whatever." Fitz turned away from her as Olivia reappeared. He couldn't help smiling.

"I'm all polished and perfect. Shall we?"

"Let's," he replied, offering her his arm.

xxxxx

"I think you might have had the most fun party I've been to all year," Olivia said as she draped her wrap over her shoulders.

"I'm sure that's not true. I've got nothing on Hollywood." Fitz shyly stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Would it be okay to call you some time?"

Olivia grinned playfully. "You're the President. I imagine you can call anyone you'd like."

"Believe it or not, I can't. The NSA doesn't give me access to phone numbers."

"I have a feeling you could get it if you wanted."

"It would be easier if you just gave it to me. Come on. I'm a nice guy. The American public thinks so, anyway."

Olivia laughed. "You're charming if nothing else."

Quinn approached to squeak that Olivia's limo had arrived and Olivia smiled at Fitz, wanting to string him along a little longer. But her time was slipping away. Fitz smiled. "It's only 10 numbers, numbers I bet you know by heart, numbers I promise to never repeat to anyone."

Olivia smiled and produced her eyeliner from her purse. She took Fitz's left hand but he pulled it back and offered his right instead. "I'm left-handed. It'll get smudged."

"And we wouldn't want that, now would we?" She painted her number onto his hand then left the arena with a little wave.

XXXXX

One Day Later

Olivia lay on the day bed in her sun room, almost asleep, when Quinn brought the phone in to her. "Phone."

"Who is it?" she asked sleepily.

"The President," Quinn whispered, mindful of the uncovered receiver.

Olivia smiled as she took the phone. "Hello."

"You're surprisingly hard to get a hold of," Fitz replied.

"Am I? I've been here all day."

"Asleep so your assistant told me."

Olivia giggled. "So what can I do for you, Mr. President?"

"What are you doing this weekend?"

"I'd have to check my calendar." Olivia knew she was free but she wanted to make Fitz sweat.

"Well if you're not busy, I'd like to see you. I'll be in Santa Ana. I'll have my boat."

"I'd like to say yes but I don't think your wife would approve." Olivia had caught quite the chill from Mellie's glare.

"She won't be there. She's going New York to campaign for orphans or music classes or something. It actually might be music programs for orphans. I'm not sure."

"So who will be there?"

"Me. And hopefully you."

"Well I suppose I'll go. There's nothing exciting going on here. And I'd hate for you to be on your boat alone."

"Good."

"Good." Olivia held the phone, expecting him to say goodbye, but he didn't. He seemed content to listen to her breathe. "I'd like to get back to my nap, Mr. President."

"Sweet dreams, Ms. Pope."

He hung up and Olivia let out a soft sigh. She didn't want to admit that she was smitten with the president. No good could come of it. But she couldn't stop herself, and he wasn't making it easy on her.

XXXXX

Saturday (One Week Later) · Santa Ana

Olivia descended the stairs of the private plane "anonymously" sent for her and smirked at the sight of a black town car. A man, undoubtedly secret service, stood before it. He nodded at her when she came to a stop before him and set down her brown leather weekend bag.

"Aren't you going to frisk me?" she asked with a teasing grin.

"I'd probably lose my hands for it," he answered, taking her bag and placing it in the trunk. Olivia wondered what he meant by the comment as he opened her door for her. She looked down at her long white sundress, hoping the car ride didn't crinkle the chiffon. She got into the car and smiled at a notecard sitting on the seat beside her. She picked it up and opened it, smiling at the slanted left-handed hand writing: _See you soon. Hope you're ready to sail. FTGIII_. She could almost laugh at his sweetness as she tucked the notecard into her blue and white nautical striped purse.

The car ride wasn't very long. The car came to a stop before a large Spanish-style house. Olivia wondered if it had been Fitz's house when he was a governor. She got out of the car and put her sunglasses on as she looked around at the other mansions. The agent appeared at her side. "This way, ma'am."

They walked up the house's walkway and the door opened. Another agent stood before them. He nodded at his co-worker then took the suitcase before turning to Olivia. "This way, ma'am. The President is expecting you."

Olivia nodded and followed the large man into the house's sunken living room. Fitz sat at the piano, twinkling the keys aimlessly. The agent set Olivia's bag on the floor and looked at his boss. "Sir, Ms. Pope is here."

Fitz turned away from the piano and smiled at Olivia as she approached him. She leaned on the piano's top and smiled at him. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied with a smile of his own. "You look nice, very beachy."

"You look very _un_ -presidential." Fitz wore a yellow button down shirt and white linen pants. His hair was much messier than it had been at his party and he smelled like coconuts. Olivia guessed it was sunscreen. She looked down at the piano. "Do you play?"

"A bit. Nothing worth showing off." He stood and looked at the glass double doors. "Come out and see the pond."

Olivia followed him out the doors down a small walkway to a small pond surrounded by lilies. Olivia sat beside the pond and looked over into the clear water at the small fish flitting by. "This is nice. I should get one of these for my backyard."

Fitz sat next to her. "I don't know what it is about this particular spot, but I've seen some of the most beautiful sunsets ever right here."

They spent the rest of the evening in that spot. They had a light dinner of seared salmon and white wine as they watched the sun set. Olivia couldn't deny that it was breathtaking. She didn't know if it was particularly beautiful, or if it was just the smell of Fitz's clothes and the warmth of his hand on hers.

XXXXX

Sunday

Fitz sat on the dock watching as the Secret Service searched the boat before he could board it. He put on his sunglasses and looked back at the house, wondering what was taking Olivia so long. He guessed that she was just enjoying herself making him wait for her. He would have been lying if he said he wasn't at least a little curious and excited to see her. He hadn't seen her all day, not since the night before when she gave him the softest kiss outside her bedroom door. He was surprised that she hadn't invited him in, or joined him in his bed later that night. Her door hadn't been locked when he tried it in the middle of the night, but she was genuinely asleep when he crept into her bed. Still, he got the impression that she had been expecting him when she cuddled into his arms.

Olivia smiled at the back of his head as she leaned down to tap his shoulder. "Did I keep you waiting?"

"Yes," he replied with a smile as she sat on the dock beside him. She wore a sheer blue cover up over a white one piece swimsuit. Fitz had to drag his eyes away from her substantial cleavage. "You look nice."

She ran a hand through her loose curls. "I look like I just rolled out of bed. Quinn forgot my rollers."

"I think you look beautiful." Fitz didn't think anyone could ever be so beautiful. She wasn't wearing her usual makeup, her bedroom eyes and beauty mark missing, but she still wore her red lipstick.

Olivia blushed. "I've never been sailing, you know."

"It's a lot of fun. My dad taught me when I was six, and I've loved it ever since." The Secret Service signaled that the boat was clear and secure. Fitz stood and offered Olivia his hand to help her up. "Do you want a life jacket?"

"Are you planning to drown me?" Olivia asked as she stepped onto the boat.

Fitz chuckled as he joined her. "Not at the moment."

An agent in a lifejacket joined them and they set sail. Fitz moved from the steering seat, instructing the agent to take over and sat beside Olivia, pointing out things to her on the coastline. He opened the cooler and produced a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He handed one to Olivia then popped the cork on the bottle. "What should we toast to?"

"Good times with fun people," Olivia replied, holding out her glass for him to fill it.

"Here, here." He filled their glasses then clinked his with hers.

xxxxx

That night, Fitz stood in the shower letting the water run over his face. He and Olivia had dined on shrimp pasta and white wine. Olivia had more to drink than him, getting herself tipsy enough to sing and dance around the living room. After her song, she had collapsed on him on the couch, hiccupping tipsy giggles and kissing the sliver of his chest accessible through his open shirt collar. Fitz was surprised when she stood abruptly and announced she was going to change. He went to his own bedroom and got in the shower, wondering what game she was playing with him.

When the water turned cold, Fitz got out of the shower and dried off. He wrapped a towel around his waist and slicked his damp hair back then went into his bedroom. He was surprised to find Olivia sitting on his bed, wearing a red silk robe. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied, looking at her curiously.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Are you surprised I'm here?" she asked with a smile. She stood and opening her robe, revealing her red lingerie. "Isn't this why we're here, Mr. President?"

"I like that." Fitz didn't think there was anything sexier than her calling him Mr. President in such a soft, intimate tone. "Say it again."

Olivia giggled, her robe slipping off her right shoulder. "Mr. President."

He stepped closer and slipped the robe off her left shoulder, leaving her top half nearly bare except her red bra, which was really just lace. "Call me Fitz."

She smiled then, soft and teasing, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. "Wouldn't that be inappropriate?"

"I think we've already crossed that line, Liv." He pulled her body against his, pushing his scent into her nose. He smelled of soap, clean linen, the beach, and something musky, something oh so manly that Olivia knew she'd never forget.

"Fitz…" She giggled girlishly. "Do all your friends call you that?"

"No. My friends call me Gerry. But I like the way you say Fitz." He pulled her robe off completely, pulling her flush against him.

"Kiss me, Fitz." He never wanted her to call him anything but Fitz, and definitely not in any other tone than her soft, breathy voice.

He lowered his mouth onto hers, quickly easing his tongue into her mouth as he moved her back to the bed. Olivia reached behind her to unhook her bra, slipping the small lace garment off and letting it hit the floor. Fitz watched her nipples tighten into buds and his mouth watered. There was so much of her he wanted to touch and taste. One night wouldn't be enough. He got the distinct feeling that once she was in his bed, she'd never be out of his head.

Olivia lay on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows to watch him as he looked at her. He seemed almost entranced by her body as he reached for the waistband of her lace panties. "Do you like these? They're French. A Duke sent them to me."

"A Duke sent you lingerie?" Fitz wanted to be jealous, thinking of how many men must have fallen in love with Olivia every day. She lived with a careless grace that told him all women should be her understudies.

She rolled onto her side, biting the tip of her index finger. "He was a big fan."

Fitz looked over the dip of the small of her back, the arch of her hip, the contour of her calf. He couldn't get over the flow of her lines. He climbed onto the bed with her, settling himself behind her. Her hair smelled like heaven, something soft and fruity, and her skin was so soft and supple beneath his fingers that he was sure he'd never stop touching her. He was a moth to a flame, eager to be burned by her.

Olivia moved her right leg back over his and took his hand to guide it between her legs. "Have you been dreaming of this?"

"Yes," he replied instantly, his fingers ghosting her sex.

"Me too," Olivia breathed, her pulse quickening as his touch became more deliberate, more confident.

It didn't take long for her scent to fill the air along with her soft moans. Fitz thought he would come out of his skin as he slid off the bed and pulled her to the edge of it to drape her legs over his shoulders. The scent of her scorched through him. Her fruity shampoo and vanilla-scented lotion were one thing— but this… the aroma unique to only her His mouth watered as his world tipped. He put his mouth to her without a second though, lapped his tongue up the length of her slit then again and again as if the taste of her could quench his thirst.

Olivia inhaled sharply, her fingers desperately tangling themselves in her hair. She wasn't sure what to think. It was all so new to her. Most men only wanted her for their pleasure. She was usually the one on her knees, the one giving the kind of taboo pleasure that the other wasn't getting at home.

"You taste _so_ good, Livvie." She almost didn't hear him, his voice muffled by her puffy lips. And then he bit her. Olivia's back arched like she was possessed, her fingers pulling on his curls wantonly as she stuttered a hoarse scream.

"Oh Fitz, I need you," she moaned, reaching for his shoulders desperately to pull him on top of her. Fitz kissed his way up her lips. One of her legs draped over his hip. The other spread wide, inviting him where she wanted him most. Fitz's lips found the aching tip of her left breast, lapping at it gently with his tongue. Olivia's hips bucked, rubbing her core against his. Fitz groaned against her neck. She was so hot, so wet. He couldn't help him. He pushed inside her fully, earning a moan from both of them. It took all his restraint to hold still, to let her adjust. He could only partially open his eyes to look at her.

"I'm sorry. Did that hurt? Are you—" And then he felt it. Faint ripples in her channel that made the arch of her back sharpen as she pushed closer to him. She bit the shell of his ear, made his nails dig into her flesh. Fitz couldn't restrain himself then. His pulled her legs onto his shoulders, setting a rapid pace with his hips as she writhed beneath him. Olivia felt like a dancer, gyrating for his blazing blue eyes. She reached above her, clawing for the headboard or anything steady to hold onto.

The sight of her made him breathless with want. Red marks, the signs of his lips and teeth marking their territory, were beginning to appear on her chest and neck. Her eyes were closed tight, her bottom lip between her teeth. He leaned over and stole it from her, pulling the plum flesh between his own teeth. It wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough. He'd have to live the rest of his life inside her to even come close to being satisfied.

"More, more, more, love," she pleaded, letting go of the headboard to hold his hair with one hand and dig her nails into his back with the other.

That did it. Fitz kissed her hard, sucking on her tongue, plundering her until her cries echoed off the walls and she shuddered against him. He buried his face in her neck as she reached her peak, her back arching almost to the point of pain as she clung to him. Her core gripped him so tightly that he couldn't take the tension anymore. Her nails dug into his neck and he snapped, roared against her slick flesh as his hips took on a life of their own, stroking and rolling. Olivia moved with him, kissing and murmuring as she rode the waves of her climax.

It seemed like forever had passed before their hearts stopped racing. Olivia relaxed beneath him, her legs still around him. She ran her fingers through his hair as he lay with his head on her shoulder, peppering soft kisses on her neck.

"Wow," she whispered, her eyes half-lidded.

Fitz looked up at her with a smile. "Wow? I just gave you my best moves and that's all you've got? You know, I could have you executed."

Olivia laughed, soft and quiet, her fingers still playing in his hair. "What should I say then, Mr. President?"

"I don't know. Come up with something better than that though." His lips nipped her shoulder.

"You're the best ever. You've ruined me for all men. My life is changed beyond repair." She gave him a cheeky smile. "Is that better?"

"Much." He kissed her, sweet and lazy, then nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "You know, today is my actual birthday."

Olivia looked up at him in surprise. She had known his birthday was a week or so after the party but she didn't know the exact date. She kissed his cheek. "Happy birthday, Mr. President."

Neither was sure what would happen when they parted the next morning. But they weren't very concerned. They both knew they couldn't just walk away from whatever was between them.

 **A/N: Don't forget to review! XOXOXOXO**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi! I wasn't expecting such a good response to this story but I'm glad everyone is interested. It won't be very long, probably 10 chapters (the same goes for "A Little Party Never Killed Nobody") but I intend to make the story as complete as possible.**

 **To answer a concern in the reviews, neither Olivia nor Fitz will die in this story. If I was following the historical timelines, they would both have to die this chapter and nobody wants that. Honestly, chapter 1 was where the Marilyn/JFK similarities ended for the most part.**

* * *

Palm Springs, California · January 1963

Olivia lay in her sun room, still in her nightgown though it was evening time. She could hear Quinn humming in the kitchen as she made hot chocolate despite the temperatures in the mid-70s's. Sam Cooke crooned on the record player and she couldn't help thinking of Fitz. His music taste surprised her. She wasn't sure what she'd imagined he'd be, but she hadn't been expecting his avid love of jazz and rhythm and blues. He had nearly talked her ear off about Louis Armstrong and Sam Cooke. She had taken him to see Ella Fitzgerald at a little club in Harlem.

The phone rang just as the record restarted. Olivia smiled as she picked it up. "Good afternoon, Mr. President."

"How do you always manage to do that?" he asked in reply. Olivia could picture the smile on his face.

"You always call at 5. You're a creature of habit, darling." She laughed and Fitz leaned back in his chair, falling into the sound. It seemed like it had been more than two weeks since he'd seen her last, but Fitz knew that he would never be content unless he could wake up to her face every day. There wasn't a day that passed that he didn't think of their last night together. The thud of her heartbeat thumping in tandem with his played in the back of his mind constantly. And there was no sweeter sound than her soft, even breathing. Olivia laughed. "What are you thinking about? I can hear you smiling."

"I was just thinking about New Years," he replied. "God bless freak ice storms."

"You can always count on Houston to deliver." Olivia smiled, remembering their last rendezvous.

XXXXX

 _Houston, Texas · January 1963_

 _New Year's Day_

 _Olivia couldn't stifle a sigh of contentment as she relaxed against Fitz's warm body in the hotel bed. She could still hear the ice pelting the windows lining the east-facing wall. She rolled over to lay on her side, resting her cheek against the soap-scented downy hair of his chest. "'I've never been so thankful for a winter storm."_

 _A freak ice storm had grounded out flights in and out of the state for the night. Fitz was due back in D.C. the next day but there was nothing to be done, not that he had done much. He had been all too thrilled to return to the hotel where she was still in his bed, the sheets pulled tight around her little body when she answered the door. He grinned at her surprised face. "You can't just answer the door like that. I could have been anyone."_

" _Well it's not like anyone knows I'm here, Mr. Larson," she replied. They had borrowed his most trusted agent's surname to book the room. She stepped back to let him inside. "What are you doing back here?"_

" _There's some kind of ice storm moving in and everything's grounded for the night," he smiled as he wrapped his arms around her, "including me, Mrs. Larson."_

" _So what should we do with so much free time?"_

 _Fitz took off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Well I got quite the chill outside. Maybe we should do something active to warm me up."_

 _Olivia laughed as she slipped out of the sheets, piling them on the bed, and went to the bathroom. "Maybe a nice hot bath would do you some good, Mr. Larson."_

 _A moment later Fitz heard the water turn on. He undressed as he walked to the stereo beside the dresser. He turned on his favorite Frank Sinatra record and skipped to his favorite song. Olivia appeared in the bathroom doorway, smiling at him. "Are you trying to seduce me? I've got a boyfriend you know."_

" _Oh really?" Fitz smiled as he walked across the dim room to her and pulled her into his arms._

" _Yes. He's quite a catch. Rich, handsome, and famous. He's on television all the time."_

" _He sounds like some guy."_

" _He is. I don't think he'd like what you're getting at though." Fitz's left index finger made small circles in the bare small of her back._

" _I'm not getting at anything. I'm just trying to take a bath. Would you like to join me?"_

 _Olivia smiled, wrinkling her nose. "That doesn't sound like something I should be doing. I heard you're married."_

" _Well I can keep a secret if you can." They got into the steaming bathtub, fitting comfortably to Fitz's surprise. At 6'3, he wasn't used to being so easily accommodated in the bath—especially with a guest—but the hotel's large sunken tub actually left him with room to stretch. Olivia leaned back against his chest and he kissed the crown of her head. "You know, I'm probably gonna be even colder when I get out of the tub."_

 _Olivia leaned her head back to smile at him. "Should we go straight to bed then?"_

" _I think we should lay in front of the fireplace and get nice and warm."_

 _xxxxx_

" _You know, I got asked to do a photoshoot like this last year," Olivia said as she stretched out in front of the fire._

 _Fitz looked away from rubbing lotion on her legs. "Really?"_

" _Yes." She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him massage her left calf. "Hugh Hefner wants me to be his first colored Playmate."_

" _Is that right?" Fitz wasn't sure how he felt about Olivia being in a magazine like Playboy. He definitely didn't like the idea of her being around Hugh Hefner._

" _Yes. I was doing an interview at a restaurant in L.A. last month and he was at the next table. He about talked my ear off about being a Playmate. Apparently once I become an official one, I can visit his new club in Chicago any time I like."_

" _And isn't_ that _the perk of a lifetime?"_

 _Olivia laughed at his smirk. "I just don't think I could do that, you know, have my naked pictures out in front of the whole world. I do like the little bunny outfit though."_

 _Fitz smiled at her. "I could get you one of those."_

 _She smirked at him, wrinkling her nose. "I bet that'd just make your day, wouldn't it?"_

" _Anything with you would make my day." Finished with the lotion, Fitz moved to lay beside her and kissed her cheek. "I think I love you. Is that crazy?"_

 _Olivia took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. "I think I love you too so it can't be crazy. Unless we're both bananas and don't know it."_

 _They laughed then, soft and harmonious._

XXXXX

"We haven't had that kind of bad luck in a long time. Not even a lousy hurricane warning," Olivia said with a smile.

Fitz chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "You know, my second inauguration ball is coming up."

"I know. I got the invitation." The card sat on her nightstand, mocking her. _The President and First Lady cordially invite Miss Olivia Pope and a guest_ … She never got past the guest part. She wasn't sure if she should bring a date, or if she even wanted to bring one. She simply hadn't RSVP'd, leaving the card to stare at her at night. She thought of taking Quinn but the girl had adamantly refused, having fallen in love with some poet who was showing her a world outside of the glitz and glamour. Olivia didn't mind the young man, only requesting that he wear shoes in the house. So far, he had shown up in socks, which was more or less what she'd asked for so she let him be.

"Are you coming?" Fitz hoped more than anything that she came. She had been the bright spot of his inauguration day, popping up just before his swearing in to give him an engraved pocket watch. During one of their numerous phone calls, they had shared a laugh over the loss of the "well-dressed man," the man who wore a waistcoat and carried a pocket watch. He still remembered the way her eyes danced when she pulled the box from her fur purse on that cold January morning and presented it to him, saying only, " _I wanted you to have something special, and I hear these are making a comeback._ "

"I don't know. I don't have anything to wear." It couldn't have been a more damnable lie than if her pants had caught fire at that exact moment. She had more evening gowns than she knew what to do with, and designers were sending her letters and clothes every day. Fashion was the last issue she had with attending the dinner.

"You could wear that dress you wore to my birthday party, or that red one from that show you did, or the one you wore to the restaurant in Houston." In Houston, Olivia had nearly succeeded in knocking his eyeballs out of his head with a slinky black strapless dress made of the softest crushed velvet that put her cleavage on central display, until she turned around and her entire back was exposed. Watching her mill around the room where the gala for something or other was held, he almost proclaimed his love to the world, especially when she caught the eye of some baseball player who became her personal champagne fetcher within minutes of being formally introduced.

"I've already worn those. And I think an inauguration requires a conservative nature that I don't possess. I think I'll send my deepest regrets and a card."

"You can't."

"Says who?" She wasn't sure how she felt about the finality of his tone. He'd often sent an agent to her door when they fought and she stopped picking up the phone.

"Someone who can't go the whole night without you." His tone was much softer and Olivia knew then that she would go, if only so she didn't have to think about him spending the whole night thinking about her.

"I'll be there," she finally replied. A knot formed in her stomach. "Goodnight, Mr. President."

"Goodnight." Fitz waited until she hung up to lean back in his chair. He missed her. He missed her and he had just talked to her. That was why she had to come to the ball. He couldn't spend any more time away from her.

XXXXX

Saturday (four days later) · Washington D.C.

Inaugural Ball

Fitz wore his best fake smile as he stood with Mellie at the head of the receiving line. He tried to stop his heart from jumping each time a limousine pulled up, but he couldn't help himself. She had said she would come, but would she? Olivia wasn't a liar, but she hadn't seemed very keen on the idea of watching him from the sidelines instead of by his side where she should have been. Fitz had wanted to tell her he'd dance with her all night if that was what she wanted, but he couldn't make that promise, not when he couldn't absolutely keep it. So he just kept up hope that she would show up and that he would be able to spend time with her.

"Haven't seen your girlfriend yet," Mellie muttered. She glanced briefly at him. "Did you two have a falling out?"

Fitz smiled down at her. "She'll be here."

Mellie's smile twitched but she didn't reply, especially not when Olivia was emerging from a limousine at that very moment. She wasn't sure what she'd expected Olivia to wear, but the silk ivory gown draped almost demurely over her buxom form wasn't what Mellie had in mind. She was even more surprised to see a man rush to meet her and offer his arm. Her lips curved into a smile when she turned and saw Fitz looking like someone had punched him in the stomach. The hurt that flashed in his eyes gave her a pang of pity for him. She squeezed his hand briefly. "Don't let her see you looking like that."

Fitz quickly straightened his face and put on a hollow smile as the couple neared him. He couldn't make himself speak when they stopped before him. Mellie stepped in quickly. "Olivia, lovely to see you. And who's this?"

"This is Marcus Walker," Olivia replied, her eyes moving from Fitz to Mellie. She wasn't sure what to make of his smile as he looked at a spot above her head.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both. I'm a bit of a politician myself," Marcus said with a smile. Olivia glanced at him, thinking she liked him much better when he was quiet.

"Really?" Fitz finally found his tongue, looking the young man over. He was older than Olivia but younger than him, and dressed in a black tuxedo with an ivory tie that matched Olivia's dress. Fitz smirked, thinking they could have been going to the prom.

"Yes sir. It's nothing big, just a small civil rights group in Mississippi." Marcus beamed proudly. "I really appreciate all you've been doing to help us, Mr. President."

"It's the right thing to do," Fitz replied.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk politics today, Marcus," Olivia interjected. "We should find our seats anyway."

Olivia quickly pulled him away and they found their table. Fitz stopped his jaw form going slack at the sight of her bare back. Mellie turned to smirk at her husband. "Well you're better looking if nothing else."

"I'm going to the bar," Fitz replied before walking away. He vaguely remembered giving Mellie the same kind of compliment when Andrew showed up with the Barbie Doll equivalent of a young Mellie. He glanced at Olivia and found her looking at him but quickly looked away.

At her table, Olivia twirled her index finger around the rim of her champagne glass. She tried not to frown, thinking about how the evening was over before it started. She hadn't wanted a date, but she hadn't wanted to watch Fitz dance with his wife all night alone. Still, the look on Fitz's face when he saw her with Marcus had hurt her as much as watching him with Mellie would have, so she really hadn't saved herself any injury. Plus she'd hurt his feelings as well, so she was doubly low.

"What's wrong?" Marcus asked, making her look up from her empty place setting.

"Oh, nothing," she answered with a lukewarm smile. "I'm a little tired is all. Early flight this morning. I was so wired I could hardly sleep a wink when I got to the hotel."

Marcus wasn't the least bit convinced. "I missed something. I don't know what it is, but I missed it."

"What do you mean?" Olivia frowned, wondering if she and Fitz were so obvious.

"You, and him," he replied. Anyone with eyes could see Olivia and Fitz were in love the moment they exchanged a look. "Something's there, or it was. And I'm smack in the middle of it."

"You're crazy."

"And you're having an affair with the president."

Olivia lifted her head and squared her shoulders. She frowned at Marcus. "How dare you make that kind of accusation, in front of all this press for that matter? And how dare you sit in my face and presume to know anything about me or the president when you've known us both for about the same amount of time. Which is what? A full five minutes? I invited you as my plus one as a favor to your sister for designing this dress for me and prior to this conversation I thought you were a half-decent man with some semblance of good sense, but do not for one second believe you're privy to any part of my life because you think you sensed something between myself and a married man."

Marcus was stunned for a moment but quickly recovered and sneered at her. "Like you're so hard to figure out. Or so morally upright that you wouldn't sleep with a married man. The whole world knows about the show you put on at his birthday party. It wouldn't be a stretch to say you've been giving him private ones since then."

Olivia's face burned with rage. She stood and quickly threw the last of her champagne in Marcus's sneering face. She stormed out of the ballroom in search of a bathroom and found herself walking the halls. She didn't even realize she'd wandered into the Oval Office until he spoke. "Lost?"

There he was, leaning against the desk with a glass of scotch in his hand. She hadn't had a chance to really look at him when she arrived, but now that she was able to take him in fully, she was awed by how handsome he was in his black tux. She looked away from him, found her tongue. "I was looking for a bathroom. I don't know where I am."

"This is my office," he replied. He wore a small proud smile.

"Nice. Opulent yet sophisticated. Very presidential." She gave a glimmer of a smile, not sure where things stood between them. She knew she owed him an explanation for Marcus, but did she really? Could he really have expected her to show up alone and watch him be married all night? It might have been a show but it wasn't one she cared to watch, even if she knew the truth.

"It's comfortable." Fitz wasn't sure how to broach things between them. He wanted to know who her date was to her, but did he have the right to ask? He was sure it was only because she didn't want to be alone, because he couldn't be with her the way she deserved, but was that all? Was she tired of the dreaming and promises? He thought he knew her, but did he really? He did. He knew he did. And knowing her meant knowing she was too good to wait for him. But he couldn't let her go. Not when she loved him so honestly. She made him optimistic and light, into the man he was before he learned how ugly politics were, back when he thought he could really make a difference in the world.

"I'm not seeing him. I only officially met him tonight. He's the brother of a friend and I brought him as a favor," she volunteered, looking at her shoes.

"It's okay," he replied. It was. He couldn't be angry at her when she'd been watching him be married for what would soon be a year. And she knew the truth, but that didn't make it hurt any less. It didn't hurt him any less each time he had to call her in secret, each time he had to apologize for some news article gushing about him and Mellie, each time he made a new promise.

"It isn't." It wasn't.

"It isn't." He knew.

"I didn't want to come alone."

"I know."

"It still hurts. Why does it still hurt?"

"I don't know. I wish it didn't." He walked to her, wrapped his arms around her. He sighed when her arms wrapped around him too. There was nothing sexual about the embrace. He just hated to see her looking so little and broken. The world knew the vivacious, unflappable side of her. No one ever saw the girl behind the bedroom eyes. No one knew the softness of her heart but him. He turned around and walked to the desk to set her atop it so he could lay his head on her shoulder. Olivia ran her fingers through his hair and he sighed. "I'm tired."

"Me too." They had talked about running away together, to any place in the world. Love gave them the right to be free. But where would they go? Where could they hide? She turned to kiss his forehead, noticing for the first time the sprinkling of silver at his left temple. "You're graying."

"Tell me about it." He gave a wry smile, thinking that she didn't know the half of it. His blood pressure was through the roof, he could hardly sleep, he hadn't given a genuine smile since he'd seen her last. It wasn't just his hair. His life was graying.

Olivia ran her fingers through his hair, listening to his heart thud in tandem with her own. She could feel life weighing him down. "Let's do something fun."

"Like what?"

"Let's dance. We haven't danced since your birthday." She remembered dancing in the kitchen in the refrigerator light in the house in Santa Ana, how he'd smiled as he hummed a Frank Sinatra song.

He let her go and went to his desk. He took the radio its hiding spot at the back of his top drawer. He set it on the desk beside her and turned it on, fiddling with the dial until music filled the room. He smiled almost boyishly as he bowed before her then offered his hand. Olivia laughed as she took it. Santo and Johnny's "Sleepawalk," one of Olivia's favorite songs, began playing as she wrapped her arms around Fitz's neck. She had made him a special record of her singing the song that no one else in the world possessed but the version playing on the radio didn't have the lyrics. The song wasn't long, only about two and half minutes, but it was all they needed. It was all Fitz wanted, a dance with the woman he loved on what should have been the happiest night of his life. He felt the noose on his neck loosening, if only for a moment. Olivia had never been more content. His arms, his scent, the familiarity of the song. Everything was just right, something she didn't get very often.

When the song was over, Fitz held her for a moment longer before letting her go. "Do you think anyone has noticed that I'm missing?"

"I'm sure they will soon. And I should be going. I've got a long flight in the morning."

"Can I call you tonight? I promise it won't be too late. Or too long. I just want to tell you goodnight."

Olivia smiled. It was such a Fitz question. "Yes. I'll wait up."

She turned to head to the door then stopped, remembering what had happened between her and Marcus. "I need a ride home."

Fitz frowned. "Did he do something to you, Livvie?"

"Nothing I hadn't expected." She hadn't necessarily expected Marcus to say the things he'd said but she had been fully expecting him to offend her at some point in the evening. Every date she'd ever been set up on turned out the same. Marcus did, however, hold the record for offending her before they'd even had dinner-or a proper conversation for that matter.

"I'll get Tom to drop you off," Fitz replied. She nodded, the corners of her mouth still turned down. "Do you want me to have him killed?"

"Not today." She finally smiled and Fitz couldn't resist walking over to give her one last kiss.

xxxxx

Olivia's hotel room seemed even quieter as she sat in the sunken claw foot tub waiting for the phone to ring. She hadn't been the girl waiting on a phone call in so long that she'd forgotten how she used to feel such idle time. She finally got out of the lukewarm water, thinking that getting herself chilled and pruny wouldn't make the time pass any faster. In her room, she fished a record from her suitcase and smirked at it.

She had never liked Frank Sinatra until Fitz made her listen to him incessantly one day. She had been defiant and hated him for as long as she could hold out, but his smoky voice grew on her. Or maybe she just couldn't extricate the memories of laughing with Fitz from their soundtrack. She set up her easel and pulled out her watercolors, perching herself on the dresser. As she stared at the blank canvas, she tried to pick something that had struck her that evening.

After every event, she liked to paint one thing that had stood out to her: a glittering hairpin, particularly red lipstick, a nice watch. Her lips curved into a smile as she dabbed white paint on her brush to mix with blue. A particular set of eyes was what struck her the most that evening. She stared at her palette for a long time, crafting the perfect shade of blue. "Cornflower," was what Quinn had called it, but Olivia wasn't sure if that was exactly right. There was a hint of gray when he first woke up, and tinges of green when he was smiling, and a darkening to cobalt when they made love.

She was crafting his delicate eyelashes when "My One and Only Love," the only Sinatra song that she enjoyed without question, began. Olivia's hand paused over the palette, her mind drifting to Fitz. She wondered what he was doing, if he was thinking of her too. She guessed that he was making a toast, smiling with Mellie on his arm. And though she knew he'd rather it be her, it didn't hurt any less to think of them together. But she didn't want to dwell on that. She didn't want to be deflated when he called.

An hour later, she was leaning back against the mirror behind the dresser to consider her work. She wasn't sure if she was finished. She didn't want to add too much detail and make it look clinical, but she didn't want it to look cartoonish. She wanted to capture the essence of his eyes, like a fairytale prince but also like someone who could look into a person and see every crack that needed to be filled. The phone ringing drew her out of her thoughts. She pushed the easel back and slipped off the dresser, moving to the bed to answer it.

"Hi," she said, already knowing who was calling.

"Hi," he replied.

"Is the party over?"

"Mostly. I left." She guessed he was in his office, away from all the commotion. "I miss you. I miss you all the time."

"I don't think I've ever missed anyone so much."

Fitz smiled. "Are you playing Sinatra?"

"No," she lied immediately. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Liar."

"What are _you_ up to, Mr. President?"

"Reading this book you forgot."

" _You_ have my copy of _The Colossus_?" she exclaimed. "I turned my house upside down looking for that book!"

"You left it in the nightstand at the hotel. If I had known it was so important, I'd have gotten it back to you immediately." He ran his fingers over the cover's raised lettering. "It's actually not a bad read."

"I don't think Sylvia Plath could write anything bad if she tried."

"I've found some of her other stuff. I really like that one poem, "Lady Lazarus." It's got a kind of dark humor to it." He absently flipped through the book. "What's your favorite poem?"

"It's not one in that book. It's called "Mad Girl's Love Song." Have you read it yet?"

"No."

"It's the only poem I know by heart."

"Tell me." He leaned back in his chair, turning to look out the window behind his desk to look at the night sky.

" _I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;  
I lift my lids and all is born again.  
(I think I made you up inside my head.)_

 _The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,  
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:  
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead._

 _I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed  
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.  
(I think I made you up inside my head.)_

 _God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:  
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:  
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead._

 _I fancied you'd return the way you said,  
But I grow old and I forget your name.  
(I think I made you up inside my head.)_

 _I should have loved a thunderbird instead;  
At least when spring comes they roar back again.  
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.  
(I think I made you up inside my head.)_"

"That's intense," he said when she finished.

"Sylvia's intense. It's what I like best about her."

"I miss you. I don't know why I can't stop saying that."

"Because it's true. It's the truest thing I've ever heard."

XXXXX

Los Angeles · March 1963

"What time is your flight tomorrow?" Fitz sat on the balcony of his hotel room in Los Angeles, having just gotten back from a visit to a local elementary school where the students had received the highest test scores in the country. Being around them had been bittersweet, making his think about the lack of children in his own life. But Mellie wasn't mother material, and he refused to have show children. The official story was that she was reproductively challenged.

He hoped Olivia had a late flight so he could see her, even if it was only for a little while.

"Well hello to you, Mr. President. I'm lovely. Thank you for asking." She laughed softly. "My flight is at six. You know how I feel about early flights."

"How would you like to play golf at a presidential country club?"

"I can't play."

"I can teach you."

Olivia smiled. "That sounds nice. Will you be sending a car for me?"

"As always, ma'am."

XXXXX

The Next Day

Fitz smiled at the sight of the town car arriving at the country club's private entrance. He nodded at the agent who emerged from it then went around to open the back door. Olivia smiled at him as she emerged, wearing a white sundress and a wide-brimmed sunhat.

"Hi." He couldn't move his smile.

Olivia removed her sunglasses as she came to a stop before him. "Hi."

"You look beautiful," he complimented.

"Well I heard this is where the big shots hang out so I had to look my best." She smiled teasingly. "You know, I heard the president is coming."

"Good. He owes me money." He smiled at making her laugh. "Are you hungry?"

"No. Quinn and I had lunch a little while ago."

Fitz offered his arm. "Shall we?"

"Lets." Olivia took his arm and Fitz led her to the cart where an agent was waiting for them. Fitz held her hand as she stepped onto the cart then joined her.

"So have you ever played golf at all?"

"A few times. I never really mastered it."

"So then I'll be winning today?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that, Mr. President." Olivia smiled.

They came to a stop at the first hole and Olivia climbed out of the cart. She smiled as Fitz unloaded his clubs, picking out a small putter for her. He set up the ball on the tee then handed her the club. Olivia examined it. "I've never used this one. I always get the big one."

Fitz chuckled. "This one's much easier for a woman to use."

He moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her, placing his hands over hers. "Since it's not windy today, you won't have to account for that. Just spot the hole and estimate the force you'll need. This hole isn't that far away so it' an easy putt."

He helped her swing and Olivia squealed when she got a hole in one. Fitz smiled and popped the tip of her nose with his index finger. "You're welcome."

"I did that by myself! You're just in the way," she replied with a smile.

They played a few more holes and Olivia found she was better at golf than the last time she'd tried it, guessing it was the smaller club. When it began to drizzle, they decided to cut the game short and go into the club for a late lunch. Olivia was surprised to find the place so crowded in the middle of the day. She looked at Fitz. "Maybe we should go. This seems like the kind of thing that would get back to your wife."

"My wife and I have a different kind of marriage," Fitz replied. "She's, uh, involved with a friend of ours. We haven't been traditionally married in a long time."

Olivia wasn't sure what to make of the revelation about America's First Couple. She looked down at her menu. "I think I'm in the mood for seafood."

"Seafood sounds good." He wasn't sure what to make of her side-stepping the comment about his marriage, if she even cared.

They placed their orders and Fitz found himself watching Olivia as she ate her fruit salad. He had never imagined he'd be so content with anyone that he could sit and watch them eat lunch. "This is nice."

Olivia glanced up at him. "It is. It's a shame every day can't be like this."

"It could."

Olivia put down her fork and looked at him quizzically. "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged then shook his head. "Nothing. Sometimes I just… Forget it."

"No. Tell me."

"I've just been thinking that I haven't been happy in a long time. I can't even remember being happy before you. There might have been one summer, before Princeton took my dad up on his legacy bullshit to get me admitted and I met Mellie, but that was 25 years ago." He sighed, his hand going to the silver patch at his left temple. "God, it's been 25 years since my father ruined my life. How did so much time pass?"

Olivia shrugged. "Life has a tendency of going on with or without our consent. What did you want to do before you became a future president?"

"Well I wanted to be an actor, then an astronaut, then a teacher, then… I don't know. I just got on the presidential track and let everything go. Decisions seemed to make themselves." Fitz sipped his water. "I don't think I can wait four more years to be happy, Liv. I'm 45, and with blood pressure like mine, I might only have another ten to fifteen years left."

"Oh that's nonsense. My father's been living with high blood pressure since I was 5 and he's still kicking. You've just got to cut yourself some slack."

"Okay so maybe I've got more time than that, but I'm tired of waiting to have everything. When I was Princeton, my mom said I'd be happy once I was in grad school and I wasn't. When I was at Yale, my dad said I'd feel better about everything once I got out of college and had some real control. Neither of those things happened. When I was engaged to Mellie, everyone said things would be better after we got married. They weren't. It's been twenty years and they still aren't. Every time I ran for an office, everyone said it would be better after I won and it never was. I'm almost an old man and I'm still waiting for happiness I'm starting to think I'll never get."

"So what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. That's not true. I know. I want to quit and do whatever I want. I want to marry you and have children and a beach house and real Sunday dinners. But I can't be so selfish, can I?"

Olivia rubbed the back of his hand. "You could, but you won't. You're not that kind of man. And you're making such a difference. You can't just want to stop."

"I don't want to stop, but I don't want to look around one day and realize I've never had good times. I don't want to end up old and bitter with nothing to show for my life except a presidency that I didn't want to begin with."

Olivia gave a wry smile. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown."

Fitz finally laughed. "I think I'm just having a bad week."

"It happens to the best of us, believe me."

"Let's talk about something else. What are you going to do when you get back to L.A.?"

"I've got two days to rest before I head back to Manhattan to do a magazine shoot."

" _Playboy_?" he asked with a grin.

"That's still in negotiations. He did send me one of those outfits though."

"What color is it?" Fitz could only imagine what she looked like the costume.

"White, with the cutest little tail." She grinned impishly. "I'll have to show you some time."

xxxxx

Olivia's smile was bittersweet as her car came to a stop at the airport. Because she'd missed her flight, Fitz had graciously given the presidential plane to accommodate her. Olivia had tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent since he had to stay in L.A. for a few more days with Mellie while she visited some orphanages and cavorted with Andrew. They sat in the car and looked at each other, neither wanting to say goodbye first. Olivia rubbed his knee, made his face relax. "Can I call you when I get to my hotel?"

"Yes. I'll wait up." He smiled and brought her hand to his lips to kiss her fingertips. "When can I see you again?"

"I'll be back here in a week." Her smile twitched. "But you'll be gone by then."

"I've got to go to Houston next week." He squeezed her knee. "I'll call you every night though."

Olivia scooted close and lay her head on his shoulder. "Kiss me."

Fitz lifted her head and kissed her, pulling her partially on top of him and wrapping his arms around her. Olivia twined her fingers in his hair, trying to get her fill before she had to do without him for what would surely be a small eternity.

"I love you," he said when they stopped to catch their breath.

"I love you too, to the moon and back," Olivia replied. She quickly got out of the car, tears pricking her eyes. She wasn't sure if it hurt worse when she first saw him and knew how limited their time would be, or when she had to tell him goodbye without knowing when they would be together again.

An agent took her bags onto the plane then descended the stairs and stepped aside. "Everything's ready, ma'am."

Olivia nodded and walked to the plane, turning back at the bottom of the stairs to wave at Fitz though she wasn't sure if he could see her through the car's tinted windows. Fitz smiled as he waved back. Olivia got onto the plane and took a small note card from her seat before she sat down, fastening her seatbelt and looking out the window at the town car as it backed away from the plane before takeoff. She opened the card and smiled at his slanted handwriting. _You're the apple of my eye. You're cherry pie. And oh you're cake and ice cream. You're sugar and spice. And everything nice. You're the girl of my dreams._ A tear fell from her eye and wilted the corner of the card but thankfully missed the words. Olivia sighed as she put the card away and covered her face with her hands. Saying goodbye was definitely the worst.

* * *

 **A/N: The words on Fitz's note are from the Sam Cooke song "Nothing Can Change This Love" and the poem Olivia recites is "Mad Girl's Love Song" by Sylvia Plath. There was a little angst this chapter and there will be a little bit next chapter but the fluff will always be more prevalent.**

 **Don't forget to review! XOXO**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi! So I was intending to update A Little Party Never Killed Nobody before I updated this again but that is still under some major construction and this chapter has been nagging at me. It's a little time jump, about 6 months. It's a little angsty but there's fluffier days ahead, believe me. I hope you enjoy it.**

October 1963 · Los Angeles, California

Saturday

Olivia held two sweaters, one navy and one white, as she stood before her mirror. She could hear Quinn moving around in her bedroom, straightening up in anticipation of the photographer wanting some shots of Olivia's private quarters. She considered the navy one, a soft cashmere cardigan with pearl buttons, then put it down on the chair beside the mirror. It reminded her of something old ladies wore to the grocery store. She put on the white pullover, artfully designed with gold polka dots, and frowned then took it off again. Quinn appeared behind her with a black turtleneck. "Try this one."

Olivia put it on and looked at herself in the mirror. It went nicely with her black slim-legged pants and gold loafers. She went back into her bedroom, Quinn following, and sat at her vanity. She brushed her hair back, securing it with a headband, then took it off with a huff. Quinn hummed softly as she pulled her hair into a loose French twist and secured it with pins. "You haven't talked to him yet, have you?"

"No." Olivia pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and leaned her chin on her hand. "He's busy and I don't want to be needy. I miss him though."

Quinn squeezed her shoulders. "I bet he'd be happy to hear from you."

Olivia smiled as she stood. "If the reporter comes while I'm on the phone, stall him."

"Of course." Quinn left the room and Olivia could hear her moving around downstairs as she went to the settee that held her telephone. She dialed the number of the secure line he'd given her and held the phone to her ear.

Fitz answered on the third ring. "Hello."

"Hi," Olivia replied, finally smiling.

Fitz smiled as he sat down in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. "Hi. What are you doing?"

"Waiting on the _Life_ people." Olivia was slated to do an interview with _Life_ magazine where the reporter would follow her around for a week that finished with a recording session that CBS was eager to film and air as a special.

"I saw the commercial for your special on CBS. You looked beautiful," he replied.

"If you ask me, the whole thing in ridiculous. Who wants to watch me sing songs they've heard me sing a thousand times? I bet no one buys that silly live album."

Fitz chuckled. "I'm gonna buy it. I'm gonna watch you too. I bet the whole country will. I hear you're pretty famous."

Olivia smiled. "What's your day looking like?"

"I met with the doctor this morning. He's got some silly idea about me taking a break every day, like a nap or something. He says it'll help with the stress, but I can't just take a break from running the country."

"Why not? Literally everyone else in the world takes a break from their job every day. Why should you be any different? And if the doctor is recommending it, it's probably a good idea."

"What am I supposed to do for two hours every day? Sit around on my ass and pretend there isn't work to be done?"

"Yes."

Fitz sighed. "I can't."

"You should."

"I won't."

"Fitz."

"Fine. I'll try it for a week, but after that, I'm not making any promises."

"Good." Olivia smiled. "Have some lunch. Go for a walk. If I were you, I'd sit out in that beautiful rose garden for a little while."

"That sounds like fun. I'll sit in the rose garden and delude myself for a few hours while the rest of the country works."

Olivia smirked. "While I'm sure you could use the time to hone your sarcasm skills, maybe you ought to do something less annoying like read? I could send you some books."

Fitz chuckled. "I'd appreciate that."

Quinn appeared at Olivia's side. She whispered, "I've been stalling the reporter for twenty minutes. I think my charm is wearing thin."

Olivia nodded. "The reporter is here."

"Are you nervous?"

"Just a little hungry, honestly."

"Me too. Maybe I'll take my recess now."

"It's not recess. It's called a _siesta_. I learned about it in Mexico last summer. Apparently the whole country shuts down from 3 to 5 everyday so everyone can take a break."

"A _siesta_? I like the sound of that much better. It makes me seem worldly."

Olivia laughed, picturing his silly smile. "Well get to it, Mr. President."

"Yes ma'am."

They said their goodbyes then hung up and Olivia turned to Quinn. "How many people are here?"

"Just the reporter and the photographer. I think they're," her voice dropped to a whisper, "lesbians."

"Why do you say that?"

"Neither of them is wearing any makeup, and I'm almost certain the photographer is wearing men's pants. And she's got a little boy haircut." Quinn shrugged. "I'm not saying I have a problem with it. I just think a little eyeliner and lipstick could do them a world of good."

Olivia laughed as she stood. "Well are they nice?"

"They seem like it." Quinn frowned. "What if they think we're lesbians too since we live together?"

Olivia laughed as she headed for the door. "I could do better than you."

"You could _not_ ," Quinn replied, finally smiling as she followed her.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found the two women, a blonde with a camera around her neck and a redhead holding a notebook and a tape recorder, looking around the living room. The redhead was the first to notice her presence. "Nice house. Good bones."

"Thank you," Olivia replied, stepping fully into the room. She smiled at both women. "I'm Olivia Pope. It's nice to meet you both."

The redhead walked over and gave a firm handshake. "Abby Whelan. And that's my photographer Liz North."

The blonde looked away from the portrait of Olivia hanging over the fireplace and gave a nod. "I love your color palette. It's very Spanish."

"Thank you. I had just gotten back when I bought this house. I think their colors are so warm and home-y." Olivia sat on the couch and Quinn disappeared into the kitchen. "So how does this work? I've never done this sort of interview before."

"Over the next week, we're going to become best girlfriends." Abby gave a sneering grin. "Basically, we'll just go wherever you go and talk about whatever. It's supposed to seem like you're just living your life on camera."

Olivia nodded and Quinn reappeared, holding a tray with a pitcher of lemonade on it. "That's my assistant Quinn. She does what you two are doing all the time. We have this running joke that she'll have to die with me because she knows all my secrets."

Abby chuckled as she sat down. Olivia noticed that she was indeed wearing men's pants, and what she guessed were men's loafers as well. "It's the same with me and Liz. We wanna knock off a bank before we go, though."

Liz sat beside Abby, her arm casually draped over the couch behind her, and crossed her legs like a man, revealing a tattoo on her left ankle. Olivia leaned over to look at it more closely. "What's that?"

"It's called yin and yang. It's the Asian concept of balance in the world. Dark and light, good and bad, and all that. I got it in India when Abbs and I went a few summers ago."

Olivia wasn't sure if it was a business or pleasure trip, and she wasn't sure how to ask without asking what she really wanted to know. "I've never been to India. I went to Japan last Christmas. Apparently it's not a very big holiday there."

"It's not in India either. I think the concept is very western," Liz replied then sipped her lemonade. "This is good."

"It's homemade, from lemons from the backyard," Quinn replied proudly. She and her boyfriend had commandeered a corner of Olivia's spacious backyard to grow food "naturally." Olivia hadn't questioned them.

"You grow your own food? Cool. Can we see?" Abby asked, standing and picking up her tape recorder.

They all went out into the backyard, where Liz snapped pictures of Olivia's beach chair that she had left cluttered with her paint palette and a half-finished canvas. Abby stopped before it. "Whose are these?"

"Mine. I do a bit of watercolor painting. It's nothing special, just passes the days," Olivia replied.

"Do you mind if Liz shoots these?" Abby turned to Liz who was taking pictures of the house from a crouching position.

"Well these aren't finished. I have some better ones in my studio."

Abby nodded then looked back at Liz. "Just shoot the chair setup, Liz."

Liz photographed the chair from a few more angles then they moved on to the garden. Olivia smiled at the neat short rows of vegetables on the left side of the tree and the matching rows of fruit on the right. "Now this was all Quinn. I went to New York for a week and when I came back, this is what she'd done."

"So she's not just your assistant then?" Liz asked.

Olivia wasn't sure what to make of the question. "Well, no. Not exactly. My whole world would probably come apart without her. I don't even know how to book an airline ticket. And we have so much fun together. She's my best friend in the world, really."

"And I didn't know how to put on eyeliner before I started working for Liv. I didn't know anything about men, either." Quinn snorted. "Remember that awful lawyer I dated last spring?"

"The one with those terrible glasses?" Olivia snickered like a schoolgirl.

Abby smiled at them. "So it's all work _and_ all play?"

"Is there any other way to live?" Olivia asked in replied with a smile. "Come on. Let's look at the rest of the house."

She took them through the back door into the laundry room, which Liz took pictures of with delight at its "normalcy." They took a tour of Olivia's "gown room," a former bedroom that Quinn had transformed into a mini-museum of Olivia's most memorable looks. Abby walked over to the gown Olivia had worn to Fitz's birthday party. "You met the president in this, didn't you?"

Olivia nodded, a small smile on her face. Abby looked it over again, reaching out to pull at the sheer fabric. "Oh so it's lined. I didn't think it was."

"Well the President isn't really someone you meet naked," Olivia replied, hoping she wasn't blushing. She could think of at least three occasions during which she'd met the President naked.

Abby moved on to the white dress Olivia wore to the Inaugural Ball, running her finger over the glittering silver neckline. "And what's he like?"

"The President? He's a dream. He's very kind. I have a terrible habit of being late to parties, and I was late to his after my performance—I missed the cake-cutting and everything—but he was the sweetest thing about it. He even saved me some cake. And he's very smart too. And funny. You don't meet many genuinely funny politicians, but he's a hoot."

Quinn glanced at her shoes, realizing that Olivia gushing. She pointed to a black velvet dress beside the white one. "You know, that's probably the most famous dress Liv has ever worn."

Abby turned to look at it. "This is from last year's Oscars, isn't it?"

Olivia looked over the dress's plunging halter neckline and remembered the night she'd worn it. "Well, it's from the after party. I wore that red one over there to the actual ceremony. I wore this to Marlon Brando's after party."

"He kissed you that night, didn't he?" Abby asked as Liz moved around the room taking pictures of the gowns.

"Yes. It was just a peck goodbye." Olivia knew she was lying. Marlon had given her quite the kiss while showing her the balcony off his bedroom, a kiss that shouldn't have been known about except for his pride at sporting her lipstick.

"I hear he was quite smitten with you at the time," Abby prodded with a smile.

"I don't know anything about that. He was just nice if I recall."

"Speaking of being smitten, are you dating anyone?"

At this, Liz stopped her photographing and turned to be fully involved in the conversation. Olivia blushed, unable to stop herself. "There's a guy. That's all I'll say."

"A handsome guy? An old guy? A guy with glasses? A one-legged guy?" Abby grinned.

"A handsome guy. He's not very old, older than me but not old in the least. He does have reading glasses. And he's got two legs, two arms too," Olivia replied with a coy smile.

"Is he famous?"

"Maybe a little."

They left the gown room, headed upstairs to the former attic that Olivia had had gutted to turn into her studio where Abby and Liz went wild with pictures. After a light dinner, Olivia walked them to the door. Abby again gave her a firm handshake. "Honestly, I think I've got my whole interview here. Unless you want to be bothered with us for another week, we can just skip all that and wrap up with the studio session."

Olivia smiled. "I'll see you Saturday."

"Sounds good. Goodnight," Liz replied.

XXXXX

Sunday

Olivia sat in her studio, frowning at the lemon tree on her canvas. She wasn't sure if she should keep reworking it, or scrap the canvas altogether. Quinn's gentle knock at the door drew her out of her thoughts. "Come in."

Quinn entered the room, her already pale face a ghostly shade of white. Olivia looked at her with concern. "What is it?"

"Someone on the phone for you," Quinn replied.

"Who?" Olivia wondered what was the matter.

"The, um, First Lady."

The paintbrush in Olivia's hand dropped to the hardwood floor with a clatter. "What? Why?"

"She just asked to speak with you immediately. Should I tell her you're asleep?"

"No." Olivia stood, setting down her palette, and followed Quinn out of the room to her bedroom. She picked up the off-the-hook phone as she sat down. "Hello Mrs. Grant."

"Mellie, please," she replied.

"Alright then, Mellie," Olivia was sure she'd never been so uncomfortable saying someone's name," what can I do for you?"

"Have you spoken with my husband?" Mellie already knew the two had talked the day before. She had overheard Fitz recounting his day in the Oval office, grinning and talking in a low voice like a teenager sneaking on the phone after lights out.

"Yes," Olivia answered hesitantly. She wasn't sure where the conversation was going. Fitz had said that he and Mellie weren't traditionally married, but there was no rules when emotions could be involved.

"Then you know why I'm calling."

"I'm afraid I don't."

"I'm not sure what Fitz has been telling you but he's not well. He's not getting much sleep. His blood pressure is still too high. He's sullen and irritable all day. I've never worried about him before—Fitz is a real trooper—but I'm worried."

"I see. I told him to take it easy but I'm guessing he isn't."

"I'm calling because he needs to see you."

"Pardon me?" Olivia was sure this was a joke, or some terrible dream. She had to have nodded off against her easel. That was the only explanation for a call from her lover's wife to arrange a rendezvous.

"He's miserable. I think some quality time with you would do him some good. He misses you."

"Mrs. Grant—Mellie—I'm not sure what you're asking."

"Well we're coming to California Tuesday and I think if you're free you should see him." Mellie paused and gathered herself. She and Fitz were far from lovers but she liked to believe they had some semblance of a friendship. "I'm asking you to see him. He's a ghost with a beating heart right now. And I think you would make him feel better."

"Alright. I've got to go, Mrs. Grant."

"Goodnight."

Olivia hung up, counted to ten, then dialed the number she knew by heart. Fitz answered on the third ring. "Your wife just called me. What's wrong with her? What's wrong with you?"

Fitz sat up in his chair, taking his feet off the desk. He wondered what had possessed Mellie to call Olivia. Where had she even gotten the number? Fitz would certainly have some questions for his agents the next morning. "Um, I don't know what's wrong with her. I think all that hairspray has killed some brain cells. And there's nothing wrong with me."

"She said you aren't sleeping as much as you should, and that your blood pressure is still too high, and that you're irritable. What's going on and why did you lie to me about it?"

Fitz sighed. His wife had ratted him out to his mistress. Never could he have dreamed of such a predicament. "I'm fine. I'm having a bad week again."

"And how many bad weeks have you had lately?"

"A few. I'm fine, Livvie."

"I don't believe you, but I'll see for myself soon enough."

"What? You're coming to D.C.?" Fitz felt his spirits lift at the prospect of seeing her.

"No. Your wife says you two are coming to L.A. tomorrow."

"Well I hadn't agreed to come, seeing as how it would mean flying with Mellie, but it appears she's made the decision for me." He smiled then frowned. "I'm sorry about Mellie. She had no right to call you. It won't happen again."

"It's okay. I'm glad she told you since you wouldn't have," she replied.

"Are you worried about me, Livvie?"

Olivia smiled. "Of course not. I'm a movie star. I don't have time for your silly running-the-country business. I've got cameras to smile for."

"Just for that, when we're married, I'm gonna come home with dirty boots every night and destroy the house."

"And every time you do, I'll refuse to make dinner."

"And I'll tickle you until you give in."

"And I'll bite you to make you stop."

Fitz chuckled. "I'm not sure what I'll do then because I like when you bite me."

"So I've found your weakness then, Mr. President? Good to know."

XXXXX

Washington D.C.

Fitz frowned deeply as he walked to the Mellie's bedroom in the residence. He didn't knock before he walked in, smirking when he found her wrapping her hair around rollers the size of soda cans. "You called Olivia."

"You need to see her," Mellie replied, not looking away from the mirror.

"That's not your business. I've never meddled in you and Andrew."

"I've never seen you look like walking death."

Sometimes Fitz was glad that he and Mellie's fights had lost their fervor. Other times, like this one, he wanted nothing more than to scream himself hoarse. But it wouldn't do any good. They weren't those people. They weren't fighting for anything. And she had done what she did to help him. He sighed. "Don't do it again, Mel. She didn't like it."

"I wasn't rude."

"Do you think Andrew would appreciate a call from me?"

"Mellie smirked. "Well you _are_ the President. I think anyone would appreciate a call from you."

Fitz clenched and unclenched his jaw, wanting again to shout. "It's not your business. Or your place, Mel."

"I've got to do something. Even _ornaments_ have their functions." She grinned evilly at him.

Fitz sighed. "Do you want an apology for that or something?"

"I want you to be your best so people won't start speculating about what's got you so looking so worn-down. Somehow it'll become my fault and I'd rather not read about how I'm such a lackluster wife. I live it. I don't need to read it."

Fitz ran his hand through his hair. "I appreciate the gesture but leave Liv alone…please."

"I won't call your precious girlfriend again. Please tell her I'm terribly, honestly, truly sorry for whatever grievance my call caused her. I wouldn't think such a feisty little thing would be so upset by little old me."

Fitz scowled. "Go to hell."

"Aren't we already there, dear?" Fitz hated her sinister little smile.

"Only when we're together." He turned and left, headed for his own bedroom. He knew he wouldn't be sleeping any time soon, but he wanted to lie in bed and look at his only picture of Olivia, a silly Polaroid of her wearing one of his shirts. The day wouldn't pass soon enough.

XXXXX

Tuesday

Fitz turned to look at Tom as they drove up Olivia's street. He adjusted the brim of his fedora. "I look like an asshole, don't I? Even if I don't, I feel like one."

Tom turned to consider him. "You look very inconspicuous, sir."

Fitz glanced around at the deserted street. He wore a simple gray suit under a trench coat. He wasn't sure how dressing like a 1920's gangster would make him less noticeable to anyone who might have seen him, but he didn't question anything. He just wanted to see Olivia. "There's no one around. This is ridiculous."

"She's a movie star, sir. People take her picture all the time."

"Not at her house," Fitz grumbled. He knew he was just tired from his unrestful sleep the night before.

Tom again looked away from the road to his boss. "Bad night?"

"Kind of," Fitz admitted. He would never have admitted it to another agent, but Tom was the person he spent more time with than anyone else, including Mellie.

"You'll be better soon," Tom assured. He had seen Olivia and Fitz together. In his mind, there were no two people who were happier together.

Fitz finally smiled. No one made him feel like Olivia did. Tom turned the town car into Olivia's driveway and Fitz got out of the car, heading quickly to the front door. He knocked and a moment later, Olivia's assistant, whose name he could never remember, answered. It amused him that even though she'd seen him several times, she never seemed any less shocked by his presence. Even then, she stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape. Fitz only smiled politely. "Hello."

"H-hello," Quinn stammered. Every time she saw him, she swore she wouldn't look so star struck, but she couldn't help herself. "Please come in."

Fitz stepped inside the house and breathed in the scent of gingerbread. He looked at Quinn. "Where is she?"

"In the kitchen, sir," she replied.

Fitz chuckled. "You don't have to call me sir."

"I'll stop, sir. I mean, Mr. President. I mean—I've got to go." Aware that her face was probably crimson, Quinn scurried away, headed upstairs.

Fitz smiled as he walked to the kitchen. Olivia stood at the counter, wearing a large red sweater and cream socks. Fitz's smile widened as he walked over to wrap his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on the top of her head and looked down at what she was doing. "You're supposed to be making Halloween cookies."

"But Christmas cookies taste so much better," Olivia replied, putting down her frosting bag and turning around in his embrace. She stood on her toes and kissed his chin. "Hi."

Fitz leaned over to kiss her lips. "I've missed you."

Olivia reached up to run her fingers through his hair. It was grayer than it had been the last time she'd seen him almost two months before. He looked even more rundown than he had then, but she didn't say anything. It didn't matter so long as his heart still thudded happily for her. "Come see what I've got for you in the upstairs living room."

Fitz took a cookie from the plate and allowed her to lead him upstairs by his hand. She opened the door to the upstairs living room, a room he had teased her about having, and turned to smile giddily at him as he looked around. Multicolor Christmas lights lined the mantle above the fireplace and two stockings, one for him and one for her, hung below them. A decidedly stout Christmas tree sat in the far corner with a large brightly wrapped box beneath it. Two sets of pajamas, one small red one and one large green one, lay on the sofa in the middle of the room. Fitz smirked at her. "Do you know what month it is, Livvie?"

"Do you know how fun Christmas is?" Olivia asked in reply.

Fitz shrugged, not having an argument. "So it's Christmas for Halloween?"

"Yes. I even made egg nog." She smiled like a child. "Put on your pajamas so we can have fun."

"Couldn't we have more fun without them?"

Olivia laughed. "We're supposed to be having a Christmas sleepover. I don't think Santa would approve of what you're thinking about."

"But it's not Christmas."

Olivia laughed as she sat on the couch. "But he's still watching."

"I would hope Santa would look away when I'm changing."

"I hope he doesn't. My body is probably the only thing keeping me on the Nice list."

Fitz laughed as he began undressing. He picked up the pajamas Olivia had bought him, a forest green two piece set decorated with candy canes. "Where did you get these?"

"Quinn found them at Macy's," Olivia replied. She picked up her own pajamas. "Can you believe they make one piece pajamas for adults?"

"I can't believe there are grown men who wear pajamas with candy canes on them."

Olivia laughed as she took off her sweater. Fitz stopped pulling on his pants to stare at her body as she stepped into the red pajamas. Olivia turned to smile coyly at him. "I hope you aren't peeking."

"I'm not," Fitz replied. "I was staring outright."

Olivia laughed as she pulled on her pajamas and zipped them up. "So what should we do now?"

"I know what I want to do." He gave a suggestive smile.

Olivia smirked. "You mentioned in an interview that you're good at chess. Is that true?"

"Very. I don't think Stevie's ever beat me since I learned to play."

Olivia went to the room's closet and fished out a box from the top shelf. She set it on the coffee table. "I'm good at it too."

"Bet you're not better than me."

"Bet I am."

"Set up the board then, Mr. President. I'm gonna go get the rest of the cookies."

Fitz smiled as he set up her chess board, thinking that he'd be much better about remembering to take his _siesta_ if Olivia was in the White House with him. Taking a break to stare at her for a little while each day would be all the rest he needed.

xxxxx

"Did you always want to be famous?" Fitz asked as they began their fifth game. They were tied four to four.

"I wanted to be a dancer. I took ballet until I was 18. Everyone said I wouldn't make it—my breasts being their main concern—but I could keep up with the best of them. Then I moved to New York, and no one would hire me because I wasn't 8 feet tall with a 10 inch waist. And I was colored to boot. Most people didn't too much mind that though since I'm not dark-skinned and my hair's not kinky, but I just didn't "fit" the ballerina look so they all passed. So I came back here and got hired at pharmacy. The owner made me his poster girl, kind of like that little girl on the sunscreen bottle. We got married—which we shouldn't have been able to do since I was only 16—but we divorced a year and a half later. After that, I got serious about modeling and the agency sent me to an acting coach to help me emote or something. People just kept saying I'd never make it—being colored for one and a little bigger than most girls for another—but the agency's owner insisted on keeping me. And a few months later I got a part in _Ladies of the Chorus_ and people found out I could sing. That got me a little part in _The Asphalt Jungle_ that got me the part in _All About Eve_. Then my agent and manager decided to take a different direction and put me in _Roman Holiday_ then _Funny Face._ And then _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ came along. It was the craziest thing. No one thought a little colored girl from Fresno, California could be a movie star." Olivia chuckled, realizing she'd practically told him her life's story. "So to answer your question, no. I didn't always want to be a movie star."

"You were married before?" Fitz asked.

"Twice. Once to the pharmacist in 1950. Samuel was his name. And again to an amateur baseball player named Lou in 1955. It only lasted a few months but I almost didn't get out of that one. He didn't want to sign the papers, expecting me to follow him around the country while he tried to find a negro team that would keep him. Of course nobody would. He was a drunk. Samuel didn't want me to leave, but he had no intentions of holding me to him. Lou wasn't so easy going." She shrugged and looked down at the board, carefully planning her next move.

"I could see not wanting to let you go, Livvie." He smiled at her. "You're perfect."

Olivia laughed and shook her head. "Far from it, but my mama always said I had the kind of fickle love that would drive some man crazy."

"I don't find it fickle at all. I think addictive is a better word."

Later that night, after pizza and apple cider, Olivia lay awake on the palette she and Fitz had made of couch cushions, watching him sleep peacefully. She didn't want to believe she was the cure for his bad week, but the quickness with which he fell asleep beside her made her think she was at least helpful to whatever was weighing him down.

XXXXX

Thursday

Fitz frowned as he sat on the presidential plane. He looked out the window then glanced over at Mellie, sitting on the opposite aisle, already drifting off to sleep. He and Olivia had said much lighter goodbyes and he had been feeling better until he boarded the plane.

"Mel," she stirred at the sound of her name, "do you have any more of those pills?"

She dug through her purse and produced the little bottle then tossed it to him. "Take two so you can sleep."

Fitz took two of the pills then sat back in his seat and sighed. He hoped he could sleep on the plane but knew he probably wouldn't. Something about sleeping in the air made him uneasy.

xxxxx

Mellie frowned as she watched Fitz descend the plane's stairs. "What's wrong?"

She could see his eyes grimacing though he was smiling dutifully for the cameras. "My left arm hurts. I think I slept funny."

Mellie reached for his hand. "You're all clammy. Stand still a minute."

Fitz stopped and Mellie reached up to feel his forehead then his cheeks. "Your whole face is clammy."

"My chest is killing me." Fitz could feel the weight on his chest, coiling around his lungs and making his breathing labored. He rubbed his left arm, hoping to soothe the shooting pain, but it seemed to only worsen. "Mel, I think I'm having a heart attack…"

That was the last thing Fitz remembered saying before his legs gave out. He heard Mellie shout his name but he couldn't reply as he wheezed. His mind clouded over and he called for the only person he could think of, the only one who could save him. "Liv…"

When his mind cleared up, he was in a hospital bed. Mellie was asleep in a chair beside the bed. "Mel? What happened? Why am I here?"

Mellie blinked awake. "You had a heart attack when we were getting off the plane. Don't you remember?"

Fitz shook his head as he sat up. "I remember getting on the plane, then getting off. My arm was hurting."

"You had a mild heart attack and you collapsed on the stairs."

He pulled at the collar on his gown to try to see his chest. "What?"

"You're basically fine. You've got to start an aspirin regiment, but you'll be home in a few days." Mellie stood. "You should go back to sleep."

"I'm hungry."

"I'll have the nurses bring you dinner. Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"I think I can manage that alone. Thanks though." Fitz pulled his covers off and lowered the bed's sidebar. Using his IV pole for support, he schlepped to the bathroom and shut the door. Mellie left the room and asked the nurses to bring Fitz his dinner then went to the bank of payphones with Tom behind her.

"Do you have a quarter?" she asked when she took the phone off the hook. Tom gave her a quarter and she dialed the number that she unexpectedly remembered. She was surprised when Olivia answered the phone instead of her assistant. "Olivia? Mellie Grant. I know you didn't enjoy hearing from me last time but this was something I thought you should know before everyone else. Fitz is in the hospital."

There was a long pause and Mellie wondered if she was still there. "How is he?"

"Fine. Back to being his cheeky self already. He had a mild heart attack—barely a heart attack, really—when we were getting off the plane."

Olivia sat down on the settee beside the phone's table. "Wha—Should I come? I can be there in the morning if he's—"

"He's fine, Olivia. He's having dinner right now. He'd probably wring my neck for worrying you."

"But he's okay, right?"

"Yes. You don't have to worry."

Olivia wondered how Mellie could expect her to not worry, or to sound so calm. "I'll try not to. Thank you for calling, Mrs. Grant."

"You're welcome. Goodnight."

Mellie hung up and Olivia sat back in her chair. She wasn't sure what to think or feel. She knew that Fitz wouldn't want her to worry about him, but what was she supposed to do? She couldn't lose him, not when the memory of him singing Sam Cooke as he scrambled eggs in her kitchen was so fresh. She went to her room and changed into his shirt then took a picture of them from her nightstand. They looked so happy, sitting in front of the fireplace in their Christmas pajamas. She was glad she'd had Quinn take their picture, and even gladder that she'd had them developed so quickly.

XXXXX

Saturday

Olivia frowned as she looked at herself in the mirror of the open recording room where staff milled around her, preparing the finishing touches for her session. She'd never been filmed while recording but Life magazine wanted snapshots of her in action, and CBS was eager to advertise "an evening with Olivia Pope." So there she was, sitting on a stool, listening to the orchestra shuffle into place. She had never had a full orchestra to back her, but she's always dreamed of it. Now it seemed silly, compared to the dream on the other side of the country that hung in the limbo of life and death.

"Everything's ready, Liv," Quinn assured, drawing Olivia out of her thoughts. Olivia nodded and walked into the center of the intricately designed chaos to perch on a stool.

A man in a dark suit approached her sheepishly, running a hand over his pomaded hair. "Ms. Pope, I'm the orchestra conductor. It's an honor to work with you."

"And with you," Olivia replied. "I have a question that might sound rather strange. Are you by any chance a fan of Judy Garland?"

"A very big one as a matter of fact." The man smiled.

"Well I'd like to sing one of her songs for a, we, friend of mine. Does your orchestra know 'What'll I Do'?"

"I'm not sure. But they can follow your lead better than any other group."

"Alright. I think that's how we'll finish."

"Everybody all set?" the director, a bespectacled man with a mop of silver curls not unlike Fitz's, asked.

Olivia straightened up on the stool and the conductor took his place at his podium. The cameraman moved into place and the lights dimmed, cloaking Olivia and the orchestra in darkness. A spotlight illuminated the tuxedoed host as he stood below the stage. Olivia could only half-listen to him talking about her as she thought of Fitz. She wondered if he knew she would be on television, if he was watching. She knew it was silly, that he certainly had bigger things to worry about having just had a heart attack, but she wanted him to see her. She needed him to hear from her, even if she wasn't talking directly to him.

Fortunately time seemed to pass quickly as she ran through the dozen songs from her movies. When they reached the end of her set list, Olivia looked at the conductor. He nodded and instructed the orchestra to follow her lead.

"This song is an old favorite of mine and it's dedicated to a very special friend of mine," she said into her microphone as the camera moved closer to her face. In her peripheral vision, she could see Abby and Liz paying close attention, hoping to discern who the man was from the song choice. Olivia only smiled, knowing they'd never guess in a million years as Liz snapped her picture. She closed her eyes and hummed the song's melody in the mic so the musicians could pick it up.

xxxxx

Washington D.C.

Stephen sat beside his brother on his bed, watching as Fitz angrily paced as he read over the doctor's care list. "I am _not_ gonna start exercising. I'm 45 years old, I haven't run since prep school, and I have no intention of starting. And I'm not gonna stop eating bacon. I'll take the aspirin but that's it."

"Stop being a brat, Gerry," Stephen replied as he flipped through channels. "I'll tell you what, I'll run with you in the mornings."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you're my little brother and I'll be damned if you die before me. I came first and I'll leave first. It's only fair."

Fitz sat on the bed beside him and smiled. "Well now I have to beat you to the grave."

"Like hell you will." Stephen gently punched his brother's shoulder as he stopped on a show. "Isn't that Olivia?"

Fitz turned to look at the screen where sure enough Olivia sat before him. He then remembered that she'd been involved in a week-long interview that would end with a live recording show. The camera zoomed in on her face. "This song is an old favorite of mine and it's dedicated to a very special friend of mine.

 _What'll I do?  
When you are far away  
And I am blue  
What'll I do?_

 _What'll I do?  
When I am wond'ring who  
Is kissing you  
What'll I do?_

 _What'll I do with just a photograph  
To tell my troubles to?_

 _When I'm alone  
With only dreams of you  
That won't come true  
What'll I do?_"

Fitz watched her blink rapidly and frowned, knowing she was crying, as they strings section picked up the song's melody. __

_"What'll I do with just a photograph  
To tell my troubles to?_

 _When I'm alone  
With only dreams of you  
That won't come true  
What'll I do?"_

Fitz sat, captivated, as he watched the lights fade, cloaking her in darkness.

xxxxx

Later that night, he awoke in the quiet Residence wing and slipped out of bed to go to his office. He sat in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk as he picked up his phone. Olivia answered on the second ring. "You should be in bed."

"I'm just a bad boy, I guess," he replied with a smile. "I saw you tonight on television."

"What did you think?"

"I'm very curious about this special friend of yours who you dedicated a song to."

"He's alright, a bit stubborn though." Fitz chuckled then sighed. Olivia frowned. "What? I can hear you frowning."

"I feel like I'm not getting anything worthwhile done."

Olivia had a good idea of where the conversation was going. "That doesn't mean you throw in the towel, Fitz."

"I don't want to. I didn't run twice—I didn't win twice—to throw in the towel, but Liv… Livvie I'm breaking. I'm killing myself. The next heart attack won't be a little one. Every day I wake up with this weight in the pit of my stomach because I know it won't be any better than the one before it. I feel like I'm fighting alone, and it's breaking my heart. And I feel weak for not being able to suck it up and go on."

"You're not fighting alone. I'm here," Olivia reminded gently. "I'm always here. Do you want me to come to D.C.? I can be there in the morning."

"No!" It came out harsher than he'd meant and he sighed. "This is what I'm talking about. I'm whining about not wanting to do my job like a child. I'm sorry I even called you with this."

Olivia waited a long moment before she spoke again. "Who told you that you couldn't be human?"

"My father used to say that some men were born to be happy, and some men were born to be great. He always said I was the one, the Grant who would go all the way."

"All the way _where_ , Fitz? You're not a gladiator. You don't owe your life to anything or anyone."

"But I…" He sighed again. Olivia had never heard him sound so human, so broken.

"Am a person. You're a person. You deserve to live like everyone else. The world isn't yours to save, Fitz."

"Do you think I could do it? Leave all this behind and be okay with it?" He wasn't worried about the country. Things had a way of working themselves out. But he didn't want to disappoint anyone.

"I think you can do anything you want."

"I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna walk away and leave this behind, Livvie. I have to before it kills me."

"When?" She wouldn't let herself imagine what Fitz not being president could mean for her, for them.

"The first of the year. I'm gonna throw all my support behind Derek and I'm gonna walk away." He frowned when Olivia didn't immediately reply with her support. "What is it? I can hear you frowning."

"Give it a year. Let Shepherd do the heavy lifting while you further your own agenda. Get the Civil Rights Act passed. It's the only campaign promise you made. Once you fulfill it, you're free and clear."

"The states are fighting it tooth and nail."

"You're a rich, white man with an unfair percentage of power. Do what you're meant to do: throw your weight around."

He laughed then, and Olivia could feel him becoming himself, her Fitz, again. "Maybe you should challenge Shepherd when I step down."

It was her turn to laugh. "No thank you. I'm powerful enough. The presidency might just go to my head."

He gave a light laugh. "I love you."

"I love you too."

 **A/N: So Fitz is making some serious plans. But things don't just fall into place so easily. The next chapter will have some drama but I promise to always balance it out with fluff.**

 **And I promise to update ALPNKN and YAINTGB soon.**

 **Don't forget to review! XOXOXO**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi! It's been forever since I updated and I'm so sorry. I'm really trying to be better about it but time has really gotten away from me this semester.**

December 1963

" _Have yourself a merry little Christmas/ Let your heart be light/ From now on our troubles will be out of sight_ ," Olivia sang as she hung Christmas lights on her fireplace. She could hear Quinn and her boyfriend, Huck, placing the mountain of toys they'd collected for Toys for Tots into cardboard boxes. Olivia herself had purchased two dozen bicycles in a rainbow of colors for the children.

The phone rang and she looked at the clock. It was 4:52, meaning it could only have been one person. She smiled as she sat on the couch and picked up the phone. "Hello."

"Hi," he replied. "Guess what Tom brought me today."

"Eggnog?"

He chuckled. "No. He brought me an issue of _Life_ magazine and guess who's on the cover?"

"I hope it's not the president cause he owes me money," she replied with a smile. She had gotten a copy of her _Life_ issue a few weeks before. It sat on the magazine rack in her gown room with the others.

"Unfortunately it's not but the person on the cover seems to have a bit of a crush on him. Apparently he's a dream." Olivia smirked at the sound of pages turning. "He's _very kind_. And _the sweetest thing_. And _very smart_. And _funny_. A _hoot_ , apparently. That's interesting because _someone_ said I wasn't funny enough to write my own jokes for the State of the Union."

"You're funny but you're not _funny_."

"And you're funny?"

"I'm funnier than you."

He laughed because it was true. "Well I've got some jokes for the Holiday Ball that I think are pretty funny. Tell me what you think of these…"

Outside Fitz's cracked bedroom door, Mellie stood in her pajamas. Her hand on the knob, she listened to him talk to Olivia. She could see a sliver of his smiling face as he read her his jokes off an index card, and she frowned deeply. She had been on her way to help him vet his jokes but apparently she wasn't needed. She wasn't sure what to make of the evolution of his dalliance with Olivia. She had been expecting them to grow bored of each other after a few months but it had been almost a year, and they showed no signs of wearing. And Fitz seemed much lighter, so much happier. She'd catch him humming love songs as he drank his morning coffee on the balcony, and poring over the books Olivia had sent them for his daily lunch breaks. She didn't resent his falling for someone else—she'd done that long ago—but she hadn't expected him to stop being her partner. But he had found someone to take her place.

"I've always hated spring weddings. You're almost guaranteed to get rained out," he said and Mellie's eyebrows furrowed. She wondered who was getting married. He laughed. "Winter weddings are too much competition with the holidays… Take it from someone who got married in the fall. You're gonna underestimate the cold and everyone's gonna freeze. You start at 4 and it's nice and warm. By 5:30, it's cold and dark and everyone's just ready to go."

Mellie frowned harder, remembering how she had misjudged the timing of their wedding, and how everyone was cold and annoyed by the end of the ceremony. Still, she wondered what had brought on a conversation about marriage between her husband and his girlfriend.

"…No. Summer wedding on the beach can't be beat. Everyone can just change into their bathing suits and hang out after. A couple of beers, steaks on the grill, some good music. It's easy and could be cost-effective if you tell people it's a barbecue beforehand. People will bring their own grills and side dishes… That is not rude, Livvie. It's standard barbecue etiquette to bring side dishes. A wedding doesn't change that… We'll have to agree to disagree…"

Mellie didn't want to listen to their whole conversation but she found herself rooted to the spot. She needed to listen, to discover their magic. Whatever they had had changed Fitz and Mellie needed to know what that change meant for her. By the time they said their "I love you's" and goodbye's. She wasn't sure what to think about them, only knowing that she had painfully misjudged them, thinking their affair tawdry and salacious.

She waited a few minutes, gathering herself, then knocked on the door. A moment later, Fitz said, "Come in."

Mellie opened the door and put on a crooked smile. "I was just coming to see if you had your remarks ready for the holiday ball. I can look over them for you if you want."

Fitz gathered his index cards. "I've got them. You don't have to look over them. I think they're pretty solid."

He didn't want to tell her that Olivia had vetted his jokes. He and Mellie weren't typically married anymore, but he didn't feel right talking about his relationship with Olivia with her. She raised her eyebrows at him but didn't say anything, instead turning around and heading for the door. "Wait, Mel. I do need to talk to you about something."

She turned, a knot in her stomach, prepared for a speech about how they just weren't working anymore and needed to cut their losses. "What is it?"

"I, uh… Sit down, Mel." She took a tentative seat at the foot of his bed. Fitz swallowed and rubbed his scruffy beard. "Look I've been thinking and I've decided that in a year, I'm going to resign. It's time. I'm not getting any younger or healthier. I can hardly sleep. So, after I get the Civil Rights Act passed, I'm going to throw all my support behind Derek and resign."

Mellie's jaw slackened but she quickly recovered. Now wasn't the time for sentimentality. "And after you resign, you want a divorce so you can marry Olivia."

"And you can marry Andrew, or whoever you want."

"And you think things can go over this smoothly?"

He shrugged. "The way I see it, we've all gotten what we wanted. I got to be president. You got to be First Lady. Andrew got to be a senator. My dad got to be proud of me. The country will see some actual change. I mean, that was my whole campaign. Once I get it passed, I'll just be in here counting the days until I get out so I can do what I want. Why wait?"

"You can't resign. You won't."

"I can and I am, Mel. It's all over. The credits are rolling on this show. Aren't you tired? Haven't you had enough of being tied to me out of convenience?"

Mellie's eyes dropped to her lap. "I don't have anyone else to be tied to."

"Andrew—"

"Will never be president. He doesn't have it. I don't know what you've got that he doesn't, but whatever it is, it can't be fixed. At least not by me. You and I work because we only need someone to give the 50% we're missing. But Andrew…he needs someone who can carry him completely, someone to prop him up and make him into the president. I can't do that. I'm too old. It's time for me to be propped up, Fitz. And he's got nothing for me to lean on."

Fitz frowned. "You know, I've always thought you were cunning, that you were smart enough to make the earth move at will, but you're not. You're lazy, Mellie. You're willing to slither in and do anything you have to to make sure someone else is doing the legwork. You walk around like you've got the world on a string, but really it's got you. If everyone stopped helping you, you wouldn't be anything because you're not willing to make yourself anything. What I don't understand is why you're so lazy. You've got all the parts to make something of yourself. Why won't you?"

"Because I've never had to!" she shrieked. "My whole life people have done everything for me. Daddy made me rich. Mama made me pretty. Tutors made me smart. Nannies made me charming. All anybody has ever asked is that I show up. They would do the hard work. Beauty pageants, debutante balls, _finishing school_! They didn't teach me math! They taught me how to sit like a lady, make flower arrangements, throw nice parties, land the right man! I didn't need to think. I just had to exist and everything else was put into place. You even did it! You made me the biggest ornament on the American crown! No one cares if the First Lady went to college. They wanna know what she's wearing, how she's decorating the residence, which brown country she's championing. It doesn't even matter if I can find Cambodia on a map as long as I'm there to smile in pictures with the skinny children and cry over their distended bellies when I get home. I've never had to be anything special. I've just had to be. What do you expect me to do without you?"

"Survive. You can do it," Fitz replied.

"I'm 42 years old!" It was the first time she'd ever spoken her true age to anyone. Fitz knew it, having seen her birth certificate, but she never talked about it. "I can't grow up _now_ , Fitz."

"Mellie I had a heart attack. I could have died. And you want me to keep a job that's literally killing me because you're afraid to be uncomfortable? Are you hearing yourself?" He blinked at her, his voice rising. "You're talking about us being partners while you're ignoring my wellbeing! Would you like me to die so you can become a First Widow? You'd definitely never have to work then. Oh poor Mellie, losing her husband to the American Dream. You could be the victim for the rest of your life, and wouldn't that suit you so well?"

"I didn't mean—"

"Get out."

Mellie blinked at him. "What?"

"Get out. This isn't a discussion. I was just giving you a heads up. You've got it, now go."

Mellie sighed and squared her shoulders. "I want a divorce."

Fitz scoffed. "You've got it."

"No. _I_ want a divorce. When the story comes out, I want it to say that it was _me_ who filed, that _I_ left _you_ because you were insufferable and selfish and—"

"Fine. You can file the papers, and sell your sad story. I just want my freedom."

"And I want the house."

Mellie flinched at the speed that brought Fitz to stand in front of her, so close that she could see the vein throbbing in his forehead. "How _dare_ you ask for my mother's house? It's the only piece I have of her and you know it."

"I just thought—" If she was being honest, she hadn't been thinking. She just wanted to see how far she could push him, to see if he was still hers to push. If he was, then maybe she could change his mind. Now she knew better.

"Get out."

This time, she left. Fitz slammed the door behind her and flung himself on the bed. A few minutes later, Stephen entered, holding two bottle of beer. He handed one to his younger brother as he sat down on the bed beside him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing the first Grant fight in years?" he asked.

Fitz glowered at the ceiling. "We're getting a divorce after I resign next year. She wants to me the one to file. She asked for mom's house."

"That bitch!" Stephen scowled. "I should go wring her saggy neck."

"You'd have to beat me there," Fitz replied. He gave a deeper frown. "My chest hurts."

Stephen looked down at his little brother's red face. "Sit up and cough like we practiced."

Fitz sat up and coughed obediently. The pressure in his chest eased up considerably and the color in his face dissipated. He let Stephen check his pulse which was, thankfully, steady. Stephen patted his shoulder. "Have you told her?"

Fitz grinned. "I told her a few months ago. She's the one who convinced me to stay a year because I was out the door in January."

Stephen chuckled. "I'm happy for you, Gerry."

XXXXX

December 23

Olivia smirked as she looked around the White House ballroom, noticing the absence of one very special guest. She put on a smile as photographers snapped her picture in the entryway. Mellie and Fitz's brother grinned as they greeted guests and Olivia smiled warmly at Stephen, making sure to get away from Mellie as quickly as possible. There were few people that she found genuinely off-putting, but the First Lady was definitely one of them.

She got a glass of champagne from one of the circling waiters and tucked her present for Fitz under her arm so she could hold her clutch. Tom sidled to her side and stood casually, his free hand in his pocket. "Have you ever seen a moon so blue?"

"I don't believe I have," she replied with a good-natured smile.

"I can show it to you." Olivia nodded and followed him out of the ballroom's back exit, wondering where they were going. She was surprised when he led her into the Residence then into a bedroom and sincerely hoped that Fitz wasn't thinking they could have sex while a ball was going on. But Tom led her through the bedroom that she knew to be Fitz's simply from the scent of him lingering in the air, and out onto a balcony where he draped her wrap over her shoulders then disappeared.

"It's Christmas. You should be wearing red," Fitz greeted with a smile as he looked over her bronze-gold sequined strapless gown. He didn't even realize it was sequined until he took her in his arms and his hands brushed over the back of the dress.

"Are you saying I don't look nice?" She pouted cutely at him.

"I don't think that's possible." He leaned down at kissed her, trying to remember the last time he'd had the opportunity. It had been almost three months and the realization made him kiss her harder, searching for change with his tongue. "I've missed you, Livvie."

Olivia kissed his bottom lip, gave a smile. "It's the holidays. Don't be sad, honey."

"I'm not sad. I just miss you. I've been waiting for this for weeks." He kissed her cheeks then her chin then the length of her neck, pausing to breathe in her scent. "You smell like heaven."

She ran her fingers through his hair and relished the feel of being in his arms again. It was a sensation that happened far too infrequently. Her smile twitched when his nose wandered to the cleft of her cleavage. "Hey! I'll have you know I have a boyfriend who wouldn't appreciate that."

"I could probably take him…unless he's like, the President or something. That's one guy I wouldn't tangle with." He smiled at her laugh, rumbling in her chest and pressing her breasts against his face. "You know, this would be the best way to die."

She laughed harder as she pushed his face away. "You are shameless, Mr. President."

He hummed with pleasure as he took her back in his arms. "Don't say that. You know what happens when you say that."

Olivia shook her head as she stepped back. She turned at the sound of voices on the lawn and frowned. Fitz squinted in the darkness then looked at her. "Do you want to go inside?"

She nodded. "I think we should."

"Since we're going steady, you can sit on my bed if you want." Olivia laughed as she walked into the bedroom and sat on his bed. Fitz sat beside her and kicked off his shoes, flashing her a smile. He leaned back on his elbows. Olivia smiled as she crossed her legs. "You know, I can remember being in a very similar position after my senior homecoming."

"Were you queen?"

"Of course." She smiled proudly. "All we're missing is a cheap bottle of champagne and a condom that's been stuck in your wallet for months."

Fitz slipped off the bed and went to his small refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of champagne. "It's not cheap but I think it'll do. I'm afraid I don't have any condoms though."

"Guess you won't be getting lucky." She snickered as she watched him uncork the bottle then bring it to the bed.

"I still like my chances." He drunk from the bottle then passed it to her, smiling as she turned it up to her lips. "And if nothing else, I'm at least guaranteed a hickey."

"Won't _that_ be nice to show the press downstairs?" Fitz shrugged as he dug in his pocket. Olivia's eyes widened when he produced a ring box and she shook her head at him vigorously. "No."

Fitz set the box in her lap anyway. "It's not that. I'm not even divorced yet."

"Then what is it?"

"Open it." Olivia handed him the champagne bottle then opened the box. She gasped at the thin gold ring, simply encrusted with three small round diamonds. Fitz took it from the box. "It was my grandmother's, a gift from her father for her debutante ball. I was supposed to give it to my wife but it never felt right. I can't imagine anyone but you wearing it now."

"It's beautiful."

"Read the inscription."

Olivia held the ring up to read the tiny script on its inside: Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours. She recognized the lines from one of Beethoven's love letters that she'd read to him one night when he called her at nearly dawn, unable to sleep. She turned her glassy eyes on him. "Fitz…"

He slipped the ring on her finger. "I know we've got a ways to go until I can give you the ring I really want you to have, but this one enough right now. As long as you're wearing it… As long as I know you're wearing it…"

"I know." She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled him close to kiss him again, lingering to brush her nose against his. She remembered her gift and retrieved it from the bundle of her wrap.

Fitz smiled at the little red gift box. "You didn't have to get me anything Livvie."

"I can take it back if you'd like."

He laughed. "Well you already went through the trouble of wrapping it."

He opened the box and his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of a single key. He looked up at her with a smirk. "Is this the key to your heart?"

"Do you really think I'd do something so cliché for our first Christmas?" Olivia raised her eyebrows at him.

"Honestly I expected something Hollywood like a Rolex, but an ambiguous key is just the same I suppose." He teasingly poked her side.

"It's the key to my new apartment here but I can take it back to get you a gaudy Rolex if that's what your heart is set on."

Fitz's eyes widened. "Your new apartment? You're moving here?"

Olivia smirked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "For a year or so. Los Angeles has become quite crowded lately, and Quinn thought it was time for a change of scenery. Her boyfriend is going off to live on some commune with a bunch of people who don't do anything but sing and dance all day. So here we are."

"Here you are." Fitz grinned as he held up the key. "And this key means I can come over anytime I want? Do you promise to always have popcorn and cherry Coke for me?"

"I suppose. I'll have to see what my boyfriend says about that."

They began passing the champagne bottle back and forth again and managed to get quite tipsy, eventually finishing off the bottle. They lay back on the bed, giggling tipsily. Olivia lay with her head on Fitz's chest, smiling as he twisted the ring on her finger. " _Wise men say only fools rush in/ But I can't help falling in love with you/ Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?/ If I can't help falling in love with you_ …"

Fitz hiccupped softly, pulling her tighter against him. " _Like a river flows gently to the sea/ Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be/ Take my hand, take my whole life too/ Cause I can't help falling in love with you…_ "

Stephen entered the room and smiled at the sight of them lying across Fitz's bed like drunk teenagers after a dance. He shook his head at the sight of the empty champagne bottle on the floor beside the bed then quietly shut the door.

 **A/N: So Mellie and Fitz had their first talk and Olivia is moving to DC. This year is about to get a lot more interesting. This update wasn't very long but the next ones will be longer as the drama unfolds. Don't forget to review! XOXOXO**


	5. Chapter 5

February 1964

Fitz stood before the mirror and adjusted his tie then turned to look at Stephen. "The tie's too much, right?"

"Just a bit, Gerry." He smirked at his younger brother, watching as Fitz took the tie off then unbuttoned his white dress shirt. "Why are you so nervous? It's hardly your first date."

"It is. There's no pretense, no event we both just happen to be attending. This time I just asked her to dinner." He went back into his closet and Stephen followed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay. Go sit down and let me find something. You're going to drive us both nuts."

Fitz did as his brother said, going back into his bedroom to re-comb his hair.

A few streets over, Olivia was doing the same thing, going back and forth to her closet while Quinn sat on her bed, watching her boss.

"Why don't you wear that black sweater with your cigarette pants?" she suggested.

Olivia shook her head. "That's too casual. I'm going on a date with the president."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Should I get out one of your ball gowns?"

Olivia smirked at Quinn over her shoulder. "I just wanna look good."

Quinn got up and went to the living room then returned with a large black box. "This is from Chanel's pre-fall collection."

Olivia opened the box and pulled out the black cap-sleeved cocktail dress. She ran her fingers over the dress's jeweled round neckline. "This is gorgeous."

"It really is. Now get dressed because you know he's never late." Olivia nodded and took off her robe then pulled on the dress, turning around to let Quinn zip it. "So where do you think you're going?"

"Probably dinner," Olivia replied as she went into her closet to get black pumps. She returned with two different shoes, one with a peep toe and an ankle strap and one with a closed pointed toe and bows on the heels. "Which one?"

"Closed toe. It's cold tonight. You'll need a coat too."

"Yes, mother." Olivia smirked as she went back into the closet for the other shoe and her trench coat. She came out and stood before Quinn. "How do I look?"

"Very Holly Golightly," Quinn answered with a smile as Olivia put her lipstick and keys in a little black clutch. She brushed her freshly bobbed shoulder-length hair.

"Do you think he'll like my haircut?"

"How could be not? You look gorgeous. And _Glamour_ reported last month that everybody is getting it."

Olivia nodded as the doorbell rang. Quinn slid off the bed and went to answer the door. Fitz stood on the other side, flanked by two secret service agents. She smiled, feeling better about being around him since he was there so often.

"Hello." She stepped back to let him in.

"Hello," he replied with a smile as he walked in. The agents remained outside, standing on either side of the door. "Is she ready?"

"She said to give her five minutes."

Fitz nodded, knowing that was at least ten minutes, as he walked into the kitchen and got a can of Coke out of the refrigerator. He sat on the couch and Quinn sat on a chair. "So, Olivia tells me you have an older brother. What's he like?"

"Stevie is really fun. He sails, he golfs, he's thinking of learning to fly. Unfortunately, he's not a Princeton man. He couldn't swing it. He had to go to Brown. Can you imagine?" He chuckled.

Quinn nodded. "He went to Brown? Nice. I went to Sacred Heart. It's in Boston, about an hour away from Providence."

"Fitz chuckled again. "The time he spent chasing Sacred Heart girls. I'll make sure to tell him I know one."

"Does he like brunettes?"

Fitz smiled. "Who doesn't?"

Quinn chuckled. "You'd be surprised. Most guys are going for bottle blondes these days."

"Not Stevie. I'll definitely send him by soon. He needs someone to keep him company besides me. No backsies, though."

"Okay, so how about Saturday afternoon? It'll give me time to get my hair cut and buy a dress. Maybe one of those cute little sailor dresses. Do you think he'll take me sailing?"

"I'll give him the keys to my boat if you promise to make sure he brings it back."

"I promise!" Fitz wrote down Stephen's number on a slip of paper and gave it to her, smiling when she squealed and leapt off the chair.

Olivia watched her friend prance into her room then looked at Fitz with a smile. "What's with her?"

"I gave her Stephen's number. Apparently she's very interested," Fitz replied as he looked her over.

Olivia smiled shyly. "Well?"

"I am a lucky man." He stood and walked to her, grinning like a schoolboy as he looked down at her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. "I like this dress. Is it new?"

"Yes. Chanel sent it to me yesterday," Olivia replied with a smile as he traced her jawline then the length of her neck with his index finger, raising goose bumps on her skin. "I know what you're up to, Mr. President, and it's not going to work."

"But it's Valentine's Day," he murmured in her ear, his tongue darting out to touch her earlobe.

Olivia laughed as she took his face in her hands to pull his mouth away from her neck. "No, no, no. We have plans."

Fitz's hands found their way under her dress, pulling it up around her waist as he kissed the hollow of her throat. "Tell me about it."

Olivia's stomach quivered and she knew her resolve was weakening as she squirmed against him. Luckily, Quinn skipped into the room with a shriek. "Stephen and I are going to lunch Saturday!"

Fitz gave a low, disappointed groan as he let Olivia go. She chuckled and pinched his cheek then turned to Quinn. "What happened?"

"He said he's seen me at events with you and thought I was gorgeous but I'm always so busy that he can never get to me. And he asked me if I liked yachts and if I'd ever been sailing and I said no so he's taking me out on the boat Saturday for a picnic!" Olivia wasn't sure she'd ever seen Quinn smile so big. "I've gotta get my hair done and get a new dress and new shoes! Oh this is so exciting!"

She darted out of the room as quickly as she'd entered and Fitz's smile disappeared as he looked down at Olivia. "Now where were we?"

"Leaving," Olivia replied, thankful for Quinn's interruption so she could regain her composure. She slipped from his embrace and tied her coat shut then turned to look at him expectantly. "Let's get a move on, Mr. President."

xxxxx

The drive wasn't very long, but for Olivia it was a half hour of torture as she pestered a serenely smiling Fitz to tell her where they were going. She sat beside him in the back of the discrete town car and put on her sweetest sad face. "I don't understand why you won't tell me. What if I get there and I'm overdressed? Or underdressed?"

"You look fine," Fitz replied, giving her knee a squeeze.

Olivia pouted. "Well that's not really telling me anything about what we're doing."

Fitz smirked as he leaned over and opened the small refrigerator before them. He pulled out a small bottle of champagne and handed it to her. "Why don't you drink this? Maybe you'll be quiet for a little while."

Olivia took the champagne and rolled her eyes. "I just think it's rude to ask me out then not tell me where we're going."

"And I think somebody's too used to getting what they want," Fitz replied, pinching her cheek.

The car finally came to a stop and Olivia sighed. "Finally!"

Fitz shook his head as the driver opened his door. He got out of the car then helped Olivia out. She squinted at the building in the darkness, wondering where they were, then looked around at the empty parking lot. She turned to Fitz. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere special. I wanna show you something," he answered as the agents walked ahead of them into the building. After securing the building, Tom held the door open for them to enter. Olivia walked into the dimly lit building. She could tell from the plaques on the walls that they were in some kind of government building, and she wondered what Fitz had to show her.

"Is there where you house the political prisoners?"

Fitz smiled, bumping her elbow with his. "Yes. We've got the best cell reserved for you."

Olivia laughed as she intertwined their fingers. Fitz led her down a hallway and Olivia looked around, trying to decide which building they were in. "Is this the Pentagon?"

Fitz shook his head. "No. The security protocols to get in there are unbelievable. You wouldn't make it through the metal detectors."

"Probably not. I've got a gun somewhere you'd never believe." She gave a cheeky wink.

"Planning to shake me down at the end of the night?"

"I hear you've got deep pockets. It's the only reason I decided to go out with you."

"Not anymore. I'm dating a movie star if you didn't know." They turned a corner down another short hallway that led them to a large round room where an illuminated case sat in the center. "This the rotunda of the national archives."

Olivia looked around the empty room. "What do you keep here?"

"Historical documents that aren't housed in museums: presidents' birth certificates, peace treaties, some shockingly old money, and other stuff like that. It's like Uncle Sam's attic." He led her to the glass case. "This is the most important."

Olivia looked down in the case and her eyes widened. "Is this the real Declaration of Independence?"

Fitz nodded. "This is it. This is nearly 200-year-old paper."

"I can't believe it's still in one piece."

"Well it hasn't been handled much in the last hundred years. Apparently at one point in the 1800s there was an actual rule against handling it with bare hands." He watched as Olivia looked closely at it, her face glowing in the overhead light. "Do you wanna touch it?"

She looked at him in shock. "I'm not touching it."

"Touch it."

"No."

"You know, only six people in the past hundred years have touched the actual Declaration of Independence." He smiled at her. "Be the seventh."

"You be the seventh."

"I'm the sixth. I touched it last month when I was looking for the perfect place to bring you."

Olivia turned to smirk at him. "You didn't wait for me."

He smirked back. "It's the Declaration of Independence, Livvie."

He watched as her hand tentatively hovered over the case before her middle finger brushed the ancient paper. She whispered, "Wow."

"Wow," he repeated, his gaze locked on her face. " _We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed, by their Creator, with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness_ … That's gonna be true soon. I get to make that true soon."

She turned to look at him with wide eyes. "It's a new world."

"It's a new world," he agreed, reaching out to caress the apple of her cheek. Olivia stepped closer and Fitz wrapped his arms around her waist. "I can't wait to do this every day."

"Just a few more months." Olivia held his face in her hands.

"But you're leaving me for Paris."

Olivia smiled sadly. "Only for a few weeks."

She was going to Paris to film a movie opposite William Holden. Fitz knew how excited she was, but he wasn't sure what he would do without her for a whole month. He tightened his hold on her and Olivia lay her head on his chest, breathing in his scent. " _What'll I do/ When you/ Are far away?/ And I am blue/ What'll I do?_ "

Olivia smiled up at him. "You'll be fine, Mr. President. Plus me being so far away means we get to write each other long old-fashioned love letters. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Fitz finally smiled. "You wanna know what sounds really nice right now?"

Olivia giggled as she pulled away. "No, no, no, Mr. President."

Fitz persisted, pulling her back into his embrace. "I wanna tell you."

She gave a teasing smile. "I don't want to know."

"I think you do," he murmured in her ear. "I think we should go back to the White House, to my office."

"And why should we do that, Mr. President?"

"So I could take off all your clothes. I wouldn't kiss you, not yet. I'd make you wait for that. Then once I had you naked, I'd spread you out on the desk so I can see you, every inch of you. Then I'd start at the bottom, and work my way up, slowly, deliberately. And then once you were begging—because I wouldn't stop until you were begging—I'd finally kiss you, on the mouth, so you could taste yourself."

Olivia's face burned as she leaned against him, trying to remain upright on unsteady legs as she clutched his lapels. She half-whispered, "And then what?"

"Mr. President, your reservation is for nine," Tom announced, unintentionally interrupting them.

Fitz checked his watch. It was 8:30. "Okay. Have Hal pull the car around."

Tom nodded and left the room. Olivia exhaled a breath she hadn't been intentionally holding, then leaned against Fitz. "You are awful."

"And you're wet," he replied with an innocent smile as he took her hand. "But dinner's waiting."

Olivia bumped his arm with her shoulder. "I hate you."

"I could have you arrested for that kind of talk."

"You can't have me arrested. I know too many of your secrets."

xxxxx

The restaurant was completely empty except for the maître d, a single waiter, and a pianist sitting in a secluded corner. Only one table was set, glowing in the light of two long-stemmed white candles. After an awed greeting from the maître d, they sat at the single table. The waiter appeared immediately, holding a bouquet of orchids. He presented them to Olivia with a smile. "For you, ma'am."

"Thank you," Olivia replied as she took the bouquet and smelled them. She took the card off the wrapping paper and opened it. " _You have bewitched me body and soul_ " it read. She looked at Fitz with a wry smile. "So you _have_ been reading the books I sent you."

"A few. I'm still trying to get through _Anna Karenina_ , but I don't think I'm gonna make it."

"You have to make it through. It's a beautiful story."

Fitz shook his head. "I read that story where the woman drowned herself at the end. Isn't that enough?"

"No. Finish the book."

The waited reappeared. "Would you like to see our wine list?"

"Bring us your oldest merlot," Fitz replied.

The waiter nodded then left. Olivia looked down at the menu. "What do you recommend?"

"I always get the salmon."

"I'm allergic to seafood, Mr. President."

He smiled. "Then I'll have to skip my usual."

Olivia went back to the menu. "I think I'll have the sirloin. But don't tell Quinn. We're supposed to be dieting before Paris."

Fitz smiled. "Your secret is safe with me. I think I'll have one too."

"No you won't. Steak is bad for your heart." She gave him a playfully stern look. "You can have the chicken, grilled, and a baked potato."

"Yes dear." He smirked as he put down the menu.

The waiter returned with the bottle of wine and filled their glasses. "Are you ready to order?"

"Yes. I'll have the sirloin, medium, with a baked potato with light butter and sour cream," Olivia answered.

"And I'll have grilled chicken with a baked potato the same way." Fitz closed his menu. "And for dessert, we'll have the New York cheesecake and a nice port."

The waited nodded and left. Olivia smiled at Fitz over the candles as she slipped her stockinged foot out of her left shoe then slid it up his leg. "So…"

"So?"

Olivia's eyebrows quirked. "This is our first date. You're supposed to be plying me with wine and your best stories in hopes that I'll sleep with you tonight."

"So what would you like to know about, the bank robberies or the insider trading?" Fitz grinned, his ears red. "Or maybe we could talk about how you're sliding your leg so far up my pants leg that you can count the change in my pocket."

"Maybe you could tell me more of that fascinating story you started in the archives."

He grinned, quirking his eyebrows at her. "I think that's one that has to be told in private."

Olivia continued snaking her leg up and down his leg, stopping to tickled the back of his knee until he jerked his leg away. She leaned forward and smiled at him "Well what could be more private than this? There's no one around. There's candlelight and soft music. It doesn't get any more romantic. Plus I'll need memories for Paris."

Fitz reached under the table and grabbed her ankle. "I can guarantee you more than enough of those."

XXXXX

Tom stared at his shoes as Olivia and Fitz stood before her front door. Fitz held Olivia to him, smiling proudly. "So was this the best first date of your life or what?"

Olivia smiled, wrinkling her nose. "I've had better, but the company wasn't terrible."

Fitz chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Did I do well enough to earn a nightcap?"

Olivia turned to unlock the door then looked back at him with a smirk. "Just one drink. I'm not the kind of girl to have after hours' company."

"Not yet anyway. We'll see what happens after the first drink."

They entered the apartment, quiet except for Quinn's gentle snoring, and Olivia took off her coat, tossing it on the couch, then went to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of wine. "You're out of luck, mister, we've only got one bottle of wine."

"One bottle has at least four glasses in it so I've still got two drinks to get myself invited to breakfast," Fitz replied as he picked up her coat. He picked up her coat to hang it up but stopped to examine the crystal butterfly broach on the lapel. "This is a nice broach. Where'd it come from?"

Olivia returned to the living room with the bottle and two glasses. "William Holden sent it to me. He wrote me the cutest little card. It said 'At least we'll always have Paris' like the line from _Casablanca_. Isn't that nice?"

"A little too nice if you ask me," Fitz replied as he hung up the coat.

Olivia frowned. "I thought it was just a nice present. Apparently he's been wanting to work with me since he saw _Roman Holiday_."

"I bet."

Olivia laughed as she filled their glasses. "Are you jealous, Mr. President?"

"Not jealous. Just concerned about this guy putting the moves on my girlfriend. He's admiring you from afar, sending you presents, whisking you off to Paris… I can't compete with that."

Olivia's expression turned serious. "Who's competing?"

Fitz shrugged. "Apparently it's Mr. Holden."

"And I suppose I'm as empty-headed as people think and I'll fall for him in Paris."

"It happened with the last girl he worked with."

Olivia smirked. "So the papers say."

"No smoke without fire."

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. "I think you'd better go."

Fitz's eyes widened. "You're kicking me out because some guy is hitting on you and I'm upset. How does that even make any sense, Olivia?"

"I'm kicking you out because you're implying that I'm some tramp who can't resist any man sniffing at her. Is that what you really think of me, or are you just lashing out at me because we can't have sex?"

Fitz's jaw tightened. He and Olivia hadn't made love since his heart attack, and neither of them had said anything, but the loss was palpable. "And that's such a great loss isn't it? That's all we are, right? Cheap sex in dingy motels?"

"It is if you're so worried about some guy I've got to work with for a few weeks."

"It's not just him!" Fitz shouted. "It's him, and that guy from the inaugural ball, and that baseball player you took to the Emmy's, and Brando, and Harry Belanfonte, and George Peppard, and Fred Astaire, and god knows who else! Oh and the French Duke that you met god knows where! Can't leave him out! You're the bell of the ball in Hollywood and you love it. It wouldn't surprise me if I was some cheap thrill holding a place for the next guy."

Olivia's face hardened into an expression he'd never seen, and Fitz knew he'd hurt her. He wanted to apologize and already the words were on his lips, but there were tears streaming down her cheeks as she scowled at him and he knew it would fall on deaf ears. "Get out."

He turned and headed for the door, only stopping when something small and hard hit the back of his head. He turned and looked at the floor. The ring he'd given her for Christmas lay at his feet. He picked it up and put it in his pocket, knowing she wouldn't put it back on. He left her apartment without a word and Tom hit the elevator button, not looking at his boss's solemn face.

They got on the elevator in silence and Tom finally looked at his boss. "Sir?"

Fitz shook his head, looking at his feet. "I fucked up, Tom. So bad."

Tom gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat. "You'll fix it."

"I have to."

XXXXX

One Month Later

April 1964

Quinn got off the elevator on their floor and immediately frowned at the sight of the secret service and the president. She had awoken in the middle of his and Olivia's last conversation, and like any good friend, had decided to hate him forever. But she had read his unanswered letters after Olivia told her to get rid of them, and part of her believed in his love. Still, he had hurt Olivia worse than two ex-husbands and a string of boyfriends combined. It was only right to hate him. Right then, Quinn put on her best glare and squared her flight-stiff shoulders. "You shouldn't be here, _sir_."

"I just wanna talk. She didn't answer any of my letters. I need to see her, even if it's just to get kicked out again," Fitz replied with sad eyes. He held up a brown paper bag. "I broke some NSA laws to get her flight information, and I bought her peonies—the pink ones—and Chinese food from the good place, and I even found that pink champagne she likes. I wrote her thirty one letters and never got an answer, but I showed up anyway because I need her, Quinn. I can't go another day without her. Please."

Quinn's eyes watered but she frowned harder. "You hurt her and she loved you more than anyone. She cried for a whole day after your heart attack, and you called her a whore. And she cried for another whole day. That's the one thing she's insecure about and you said it like it was nothing. You told her she was the love of your life then you… I… I wish she'd never met you!"

Before Fitz could reply, the elevator dinged and Fitz heard the unmistakable sound of her heels clicking as she stepped off the elevator. He looked away from her shoes to her face just as her eyes landed on him. "Hi."

Olivia blinked at him, not sure if she was more surprised at seeing him, or at the way her heart still leapt when saw him. "Hi."

 **A/N: *throws hands up in surrender* It's a cliffhanger. Don't kill me. But there's a happy ending somewhere on the horizon, and some flashbacks to how our babies spent their month apart. Don't forget to review!**

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hi! I'm back! I won't say much about my time away except that I've overcome some struggles recently that I hope won't be any more of a problem. Anyway, let's get to the story.**

April 1964

Quinn looked back and forth between Olivia and Fitz, waiting for one to speak first. She could see the love in Fitz's eyes, and the conflict in Olivia's, and she found herself willing them back together. She had spent their entire month away willing them back together, gently reminding Olivia of the love they shared. Olivia had moved from hatred to ambivalence, but for Quinn it was enough. She just wanted her friend open to the possibility of rekindling their love, to the belief that they were strong enough to make it.

"May I carry your bags in Ms. Pope?" Tom asked, breaking the moment's tension.

Olivia blinked at him as if she hadn't registered his presence until that moment. She gave a half-nod, her eyes quickly moving back to Fitz who hadn't stopped looking at her. Quinn unlocked the door and Tom followed her inside, leaving the estranged lovers alone. Fitz wasn't sure what to say, or how it was possible that she seemed even more beautiful since he'd seen her last. Whatever had happened, Paris had been good to her. "You changed your hair."

Olivia nodded, reaching up to touch her hair, now stopping just below her ears in soft waves. "The producers wanted me to go back to the way I looked in _Carmen Jones_. I guess it's okay."

"I like it," Fitz replied, then added a moment later, "if that means anything."

"Thank you," was all Olivia could come up with to say. It was one thing to hate him when she was on the other side of the world, when she wasn't looking at him and remembering every time he'd looked at her with those eyes. How she'd missed those eyes…

xXx

Paris, France

March 1964

"Do I have something on my face?" William Holden asked, his tan hand poised to wipe whatever Olivia was staring at off his face. He and Olivia sat in their hotel's restaurant, having lunch after an early wrap day.

Olivia snapped back to reality and quickly averted her gaze, blushing. "Oh no. I was just daydreaming."

William smiled. "About me?"

"Something like that." It wasn't technically a lie. He and Fitz had eyes the same soft shade of blue, and she'd found herself thinking of those eyes so far away.

His eyebrows raised. "Oh? Anything you'd like to share… Perhaps over dinner?"

Olivia continued to smile, giving an almost sheepish shake of her head. "Maybe some other time. I don't like to mix business and pleasure."

"Why not? It seems to be going well for Richard and Gabrielle."

They had filmed their first kissing scene that day, and to William's delight they'd had to do it at least ten times before it looked right. Olivia knew she was off her game, but William's cologne reminded her terribly of Fitz and it was all she could do not to cry in his arms.

Olivia chuckled and shook her head. "Well everything's written to work out for them."

He shrugged. "That's true. Just thought I'd try my luck."

"Well it was a commendable effort."

"It was a dumb effort. You've got eyes for someone else."

Olivia looked up at him with a frown. "Why do you say that?"

"Earlier when we were filming, your heart was playing hopscotch, and I'm secure enough to admit it wasn't at all on my account. And the way you were just staring, that stupid moony look, that's love if I've ever seen it." He gave a wry smile. "So who's the lucky guy?"

She frowned deeper. "Nobody now."

He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. "Putting aside the fact that I just hit on you, I'm gonna give you advice that it took me 40 years of living and two ex-wives to accept: when you love somebody, you don't just let go. I know how it is. You're twenty-something and you think there's a whole world of people to love—and there is—but when the party's over—and believe me it ends—you're gonna want someone who's there for more than a night. It's not about who you want to dance with all Saturday night. It's about who you want to make eggs with on Sunday morning."

Olivia blinked away tears. "But it's over."

William shook his head. "It's not over. You don't look like you're looking when it's over. Believe me. You just need to give it another shot. Even if you've gotta start all over."

Olivia nodded, grateful for his kindness. They spent the rest of their lunch trading acting horror stories and Olivia found she felt better as they rode the elevator to their floor, although she knew most of her exuberance was the four Bellinis she'd had with her lunch. William walked her to her room and stood beside the door with a smile as Olivia searched her handbag for her key. She finally found it in her makeup bag and produced it with a smile. "They really should find a better way to lock these rooms, or at least make the keys easier to keep track of."

William shook his head. "It's Paris. Nothing will ever change. I've been coming here for 20 years and everything is still the same as it was when I was your age."

Olivia laughed. "You say that like you're so old."

"Because I am."

"Well you wear it well."

He smiled wryly. "It's just a good suit."

Olivia laughed again then reached out to pat his cheek. "Thank you for such a nice lunch. It's been one of those days—for the past few weeks honestly—and you made it a little brighter."

"Don't mention it." He leaned over and kissed her cheek, lingering a bit past platonic. Olivia pulled her face away then stared at him for a moment. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his, hoping to feel something after he'd been so kind. She released him when nothing happened and looked down at her yellow pumps, matched so caringly by Quinn with her new purse. She sheepishly lifted her eyes to his and shook her head. William nodded, already aware. Olivia unlocked her door and went inside, not surprised to find Quinn in the suite's living room, picking through her clothes.

"Where are you going?" Olivia asked as she swayed to the couch. She plopped onto its plush cushions and took off her shoes.

"I met a man. Giovanni. He's an Italian bartender."

"What were you doing in a bar in the middle of the day?"

Quinn looked up at her friend's flushed face with a smirk. "I could ask you the same question."

"Touché." She watched as Quinn pulled out a dark blue dress that belonged to one of them. Though it had been exchanged so many times Olivia couldn't remember who bought it. "Don't wear that. Wear that green one. You look like Lauren Bacall in it."

Quinn nodded and put the blue dress back then pulled out the green one. "He drives a moped. Isn't that darling? He's taking me to this really old theatre called the Angelica. Supposedly it's one of the only places to survive World War II."

"Sounds fun." Olivia lay back on the couch. "What about Stephen Grant?"

"I can't very well pass up a fling with an Italian bartender in France," Quinn replied with a shrug. She sat on the arm of the couch. "And it's not like I can date him now, not after how his brother treated you."

Olivia frowned. "Not your circus or your monkeys. I would never ask you to do something like that."

Quinn shook her head. "You didn't ask. It just doesn't feel right, dating my best friend's ex-boyfriend's brother. Besides, we only went on one date."

"What if he's the one, though?" Quinn gave her a severely pointed look and Olivia dropped her eyes to her lap.

XXx

Present Day

"Can I come inside? Just to talk to you. Just for a minute."

Olivia frowned at Fitz, remembering their last conversation in her room. "Do you really think that's such a good idea?"

"Olivia—" She turned away at the sound of his voice as if he'd slapped her and Fitz dropped to his knees without a second thought, crawling to where she stood. He wrapped his arms around her legs and looked up at her dolefully. "Livvie, please…"

Olivia's hands shook as she brushed his disheveled hair. Her body warmed with the touch, and she realized how much she'd missed being near him. She quickly took her hands away and pushed his arms off her. "Just one minute then you're gone."

She turned and went inside, Fitz following quickly. Quinn stood in the kitchen, unpacking the Chinese food while Tom waited awkwardly in the middle of the living room. Quinn looked up at the sound of the door shutting and put down the carton in her hand. "I'll just go unpack."

She quickly disappeared into her room and Tom looked at the estranged lovers before him, unsure of whether he should leave or stay. He had witnessed enough private moments to know they could easily forget his presence—he often thought they could forget the world together—but this seemed like a moment to which he shouldn't be privy. "I'll take my post outside if that's okay with you, sir."

Fitz nodded and Tom left, shutting the door softly behind him. Olivia went to the kitchen to finish unpacking the brown paper bag of food and Fitz sat on the couch. If it weren't for her deliberate refusal to be near him, he could almost imagine it was a normal night for them. He picked up the bundle of letters Quinn had left on the coffee table. His hopes buoyed at the sight of their opened flaps and he turned to look at her. "You read the letters?"

Olivia shook her head, remembering how each day she'd hold a crisp envelope, almost desperate to read his crooked writing, then tell Quinn to throw it away. She wasn't surprised that Quinn had kept them given the way she'd reacted to the first one that had arrived just as they were leaving for the airport.

xXx

March 1964

Olivia stared out the plane's window, swaddled in a large blanket over her gray caftan. Her hair was covered by a brightly printed silk scarf that Quinn had tied into a turban, and sunglasses shielded her eyes from everyone around her. Quinn sat beside her, distractedly reading a novel. She finally put the book down and looked at her boss. "Are you sure you don't want to read the letter? I'll read it to you."

Olivia shook her head, not looking away from the window. "No. There's no reason. There's no us. No future, no country house in Vermont, no big white wedding, no babies, no hope…not anymore."

"Liv, please don't say that. I know he was wrong—so wrong—but he loves you. And you love him. I've seen you two together. You breathe in sync."

At this Olivia turned to look at her. She lifted her sunglasses, revealing her red-rimmed eyes. "Then how could he say that? How could he doubt me? I've never loved anyone so deeply and he broke my heart like it didn't mean anything. What am I supposed to do? Brush it off like he didn't hurt me worse than a drunk father and two ex-husbands combined? And tell me how I do it. Do I pretend he didn't mean it, or that it didn't hurt?"

Quinn bit her lip. "I just think love allows for forgiveness…"

"Why do I always have to forgive? Why am I always the one who gets hurt _and_ the one who has to suck it up and move on? Why can't people look at me and realize I'm just as much flesh and bone as them? That I have just as many feelings and a heart that's just as easily broken?" Her throat burned, and she turned back to the window.

Quinn lifted the armrest between their chairs and scooted closer to hug her friend, resting her head on Olivia's shoulder while Olivia's head rested on the window. She gave her a squeeze. " _So darlin' darlin' stand by me/ Oh stand by me—_ "

"Don't make me have them escort you off the plane," Olivia replied, stopping Quinn's off-key singing, smiling in spite of herself.

Quinn chuckled. "I just didn't want you to cry."

"I think I might be all cried out," Olivia replied.

It didn't take long before the flight put her to sleep. Quinn had always admired the way Olivia could sleep so deeply while flying. She couldn't never do it. Flying still made her antsy even after all the times she'd done it. Listening to Olivia's gentle snore, she took the letter out of her bag and read his crooked left-handed writing on the front before she opened the envelope. She took out the paper and unfolded it.

 _Dear Livvie,_

 _I'm sorry. I'll never be able to say it enough, but I am. I lost my head. And it's no excuse for what I said, but the idea of other men making you happy—the thought that I might not be the love of your life even though you're the love of mine—is unfathomable. There's nothing in the world for me but you. I would rather die than not be with you. It may not sound like the truth, but it is._

 _It wouldn't surprise me if you don't read this. I don't deserve any kindness and I know it. But if you do, if there's even a fraction of your heart that still feels for me what my whole heart feels for you, please give me another chance. I don't deserve it. I know that. But I can't live without you. Please don't make me try._

 _All my love,_

 _Fitz_

Quinn refolded the letter then put it in her bag, trying to sniffle quietly, wondering how she would convince Olivia to read it. She looked over at her sleeping friend and frowned at the sadness that creased her face. She hadn't seen Olivia smile for more than a few seconds since that night when the doorbell rang. Her friend had actually bounced in her heels, giddily exclaiming "It's him!"

Olivia frowned as she pretended to sleep, thinking that if she kept her eyes closed long enough, his face would disappear from her thoughts. She could hear Quinn crying softly and she briefly wondered what the letter had said, but she refused to read it.

xXx

Present Day

Olivia watched as he untied the bundle of letters. He looked through them. "I can't believe I wrote you every day for a month. I didn't mean to but… You're the only person I want to talk to every day. When something good happens, when something bad happens, when nothing happens, you're the one I want to talk to."

He shuffled through the letters and Olivia almost smiled at him having to get his reading glasses from his breast pocket so he could read the stamps' dates. He finally picked one out and opened it.

" _Dear Livvie,_

 _Mellie and I went to an animal shelter today and now I want a dog. They had the most amazing golden retriever. Her name is Sandy and I think we fell in love. But she already has a new family. I don't think she'll forget me though. I know we agreed on only one dog, but imagine the fun we'd have with three or four. Or ten. Let's not even have babies. Let's not even have kids. We'll just put clothes on the dogs. I hope that thought makes you smile like it made me smile. I miss your smile more than anything in the world._

 _Forever thinking of you,_

 _Fitz_

 _P.S. I've given up running. Biking just makes me want to die less._

Olivia laughed in spite of herself and Fitz smiled. It seemed like it had been years since he'd heard that sound. He walked to the kitchen and stood before her. "See? It can be like it was. We've just gotta give it a chance to go back."

Olivia's smiled collapsed. "But it can't. You ruined me. I'm ruined."

Fitz frowned. " _You're_ ruined? _I'm_ ruined!"

Olivia scowled at him. "Are you, Mr. President?"

Fitz smirked. "You know you used to sound sexy when you called me that. No it sounds like I'm just a gym teacher. Can you really say you don't miss me?"

"Does it matter?"

"Does it matter?" He held up the bundle of letters. "It's mattered every day for the past year. It's mattered every day for a whole month that I wrote to you and didn't get even the slightest inkling that you cared."

"Did it matter when you called me a whore?"

"I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that. I just can't," Fitz sighed, "I can't live with even the possibility that there might be someone else for you when there's no one else in the world for me. And you can be as cold as you want, but I'm not leaving Livvie. You won't drive me away. I'm not going away."

"I don't have to drive you away. You're married. You're the President of the United States. You're away by definition."

"I'll only be those things for a few more months and you know it, Olivia."

"Do I? Tell me how I'm supposed to trust you when you said what you said. I showed you the ugliest parts of me and you threw them in my face. And you know what makes it so awful? That I honestly believed you were different. I wasn't just pushing aside fears. There weren't any fears." Hot tears welled in her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. "And now look at me. I'm ruined. I wait for you. I watch for you. My whole life is you. I can't breathe because I'm waiting for you. You own me. You control me. I belong to you—"

" _You_ own _me_! _You_ control _me_! _I_ belong to _you_! You think I want to be the man I was that night? You think I don't want to be a better man, the kind of man who deserves a woman like you? I love you. I'm in love with you. You're the love of my life. My every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can't breathe without you. I can't sleep without you. I wait for you. I watch for you. I exist for you. I'm throwing away the American Dream to run away with you because nothing in this world compares to being with you."

Olivia walked away, keeping her eyes deliberately off him, and went to stand before the row of windows that made up the west wall of her living room. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when Fitz came to stand beside her. Her eyes flickered to his reflection. "How can we get past this?"

Fitz sheepishly intertwined their fingers. "I think we want to be together. I think that love, at the end of the day, is stronger than some mistakes somebody made. Something they did that they regret. I think that love allows for forgiveness. Don't you?"

"Yes!" Both their heads snapped in the direction of Quinn's room, having forgotten she was there.

Olivia frowned at her friend's closed door for a moment before she began to laugh, sagging against Fitz who watched her for a moment then laughed himself. He leaned against the window, holding onto her as she shook with giggled in his arms. When her laughed subsided, she wiped her eyes and reached up caress his face. "Oh, I've missed you…"

Fitz held her closer. "I missed you too. I felt so bad last night that I actually prayed you'd forgive me. I guess God owed me a favor after that whole heart attack thing."

"Well I've forgiven you. Now what do we do?"

"Eat. I'm starving."

Olivia laughed and they headed for the kitchen.

xXx

The next morning

Quinn sighed as she turned the radio down. It had only marginally covered the sounds of Olivia and Fitz's reunion. Though she was happy they'd made up, Quinn suddenly remembered how peaceful her sleep in Paris had been, how she hadn't woken up to moaning and soft music in a whole month.

She rolled out of bed and left her room, headed for the kitchen. Her morning's prospects didn't improve when she found the can of coffee empty. She cursed to herself as she went to the refrigerator to retrieve the leftover Chinese food. She could hear Olivia ardently agreeing to whatever Fitz's muffled requests were as she heaped shrimp fried rice onto a plate. She glanced into the living room and wasn't surprised to see Tom sprawled on the couch under an old afghan. She grinned as an idea struck her and she crept over to the couch. She crouched beside his head and leaned in as close as she could, close enough to hear his even breathing.

She opened her mouth to shout "boo" but Tom cut her off, his eyes still closed. "I'll shoot you."

Quinn smirked as she stood. "Well you're no fun."

"I work for the government. Fun is counterintuitive." He rolled off the couch and followed her to the kitchen, plopping into a chair opposite hers.

"For some people anyway." She nodded at Olivia's closed door and Tom laughed.

"Hey what time would you say they…formally reconciled?"

"Well we got here around 6 and the talked for probably an hour. But they ate and took a bath before they…reconnected so maybe 9 or 9:30."

Tom looked at his watch. "It's been 10 hours."

In Olivia's bedroom, she was expressing the same sentiment to Fitz as she lay atop him, raking her fingers through his hair. They had effectively destroyed her neatly made bed and her hairstyle, her curls now fanning out wildly.

Fitz reached back and squeezed her thigh. "Well technically it's been two months and ten hours but I take your point. What should we do now?"

"I can't think of anything that won't lead to sex."

Olivia lay her head down beside his and kissed his temple. Fitz turned his head and kissed her lips, a sated smile on his face. "Hi."

Olivia smiled back, leaning in to rub her nose against his. "Hi."

 **A/N: Don't forget to review! XOXOXOXO**


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